


Ride or Die

by oiivkawa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (at times), (kind of), Action, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Cars, Developing Relationship, Drama, Drinking, Drug Mentions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fast and Furious AU, Gangs, Humour, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Organized Crime, Pining, Slow Burn, Swearing, Violence, like lots of cars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 100,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiivkawa/pseuds/oiivkawa
Summary: Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows at Oikawa in surprise. “You like cars?” he asked, removing his hands from the pocket of his black joggers, standing up straighter, the backs of his legs hitting the hood of his car.“Like them?” Oikawa laughed brightly, stepping into the already slight space between them. “Baby, I bring them to life,” he whispered into the increasingly hazy air.For an esteemed racer, intended for the big leagues, owning a garage and racing on the streets should feel like settling rather than a dream. But Oikawa is happy as long as he's behind the wheel of a car; until a misstep lands him a heavy fine, and a crumbling future.Having grown up in one of the roughest neighbourhoods in Tokyo, Iwaizumi is no stranger to the mob life. He's a man of action, someone who does what he's asked without any questions. But when the people he's tried so hard to distance himself from come knocking, he realizes that he finally has to establish a side: his own.Iwaizumi wants Oikawa's expertise: someone who can both drive well and knows his way around cars. And Oikawa wants absolutely nothing to do with gangs, the kind of people that lit a fire to his life.(Fast and Furious AU)





	1. loose ends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serviceace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serviceace/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bam bam fast and furious au*
> 
> ok who let me write another au?? but listen, this one already has 3 chapters written, which i will post slowly over the span of the next month while i work on the rest of the chapters. i'm not really sure how long this is going to be, but there's a plot, i swear!! it's planned out (to an extent) and i'm really fucking excited about this so i hope that you guys are just as pumped as i am! c:
> 
> i'd just like to dedicate this fic to [@serviceace](http://archiveofourown.org/users/serviceace). thank you for letting me bounce ideas off you, for encouraging me, and for freaking out with me over this au, Pinta! ♡ i hope i can do it justice!! *flexing emoji*
> 
> be prepared for lots of car references, unsafe driving and clothes

There was nothing more satisfying than the smell of car grease, motor oil, and gasoline, in Oikawa’s opinion. Especially, when it was those very things that surrounded him day in and day out. His brain cells were begging him for mercy, but a part of Oikawa didn’t think he’d ever be able to live a life without those scents _somewhere_ close to him.

For as long as he could remember, Oikawa had always been surrounded by cars. When he was a child, too young to know how to properly control the steering wheel or shift gears, he had been content with just watching others polish the expensive vehicles, check the engines, replace the tires, and exchange the rusting oil for newer, _shinier_ liquid.

But the older he got, the more the itch to actually _drive_ one of those fancy cars actually became, until one day a friend of his dad’s let him do just that.

It wasn’t as if the fact that Oikawa finally got to sit behind the wheel of a race car came as a surprise – he had grown up around a racetrack after all, his father being the head of one of the better known pit crew companies for formula racers – but the feeling he got at sitting inside the vehicle, alone and in complete control of all the functions was one that he’d never forget.

He didn’t believe in love at first sight – it was an unreasonable conviction at best – but love at first _touch_ , well that was a completely different story.

The feel of the soft foam making up the grip of the steering wheel, the way his fingers felt against cool metal that extended inwards, towards the centre of the circular control. The leather seats, the firm backrest, the gas and brake pedals that fit snugly underneath the sole of his shoes seemed like they were catered to him, even though the notion was ridiculous. The way his fingers twitched over the knob of the black gearshift, the touch calm and familiar even though he only knew the _theory_ behind what to do. With the grip in his palm however, Oikawa felt like he was on top of the world.

Everything felt _right_ , and it made him realize he never wanted to leave that small, enclosed space that smelled of artificially scented vanilla, fading now from the length of its use, to deter the smell of _car_.

But that’s what Oikawa loved the best about being around – _inside_ – the incredible vehicles that had so much potential a kid like him didn’t even know existed at the time. The smells in the garage just added to the overall thrill and Oikawa couldn’t understand why anyone would want to intentionally get rid of that scent.

Combined with the adrenaline rush that came with actually driving a fast car, down a racetrack no less, with the speed causing the air inside the car to vibrate and expand, _drowning_ Oikawa in the scent he fell so in love with was one of the best experience of his life. The inertia pushing him back against his seat made him feel like he was choking on his own breath at first but the feeling soon became one he looked forward to.

He was 13 the first time he got to drive by himself, without a designated driver sitting next to him with their own set of brakes; he was 15 the first time he won a race, heart beating erratically, thundering against his eardrums and drowning out the sound of the crowd chanting his name, the announcer calling him out as the champion, and the screeching of car tires as the racers behind him finished the track. The smell of burnt rubber in the air should have been sickening, but it only became another scent that Oikawa found himself addicted to.

And at 17 years old, Oikawa was proclaimed the Under Eighteens formula race champion of Japan, having been undefeated for thirteen straight races in just two years.

He didn’t do it for the money or the fame, or even the recognition. It pleased his dad to have another face for his company, one that would eventually take the racing world by storm, as the sports magazines and reporters predicted.

But to Oikawa, racing was a part of him, something that made him feel happy and alive. It was the few moments where he felt like he could do anything, where he was in charge of his own fate. The outcome was in the palm of his hand, _literally_ , and that kind of adrenaline rush couldn’t be found in anything else.

Formula racing wasn’t the most popular of sports in Japan, and his father had talked to him about moving to America for university, just to get ahead in the world, but Japan was his home and Oikawa had full intentions of making a name for himself right here in his country. After he turned 18 in his last year of high school, he had stopped competing in the junior races, his age deterring him from the podium. It was fine though, because he was set to debut in the premiere league as soon as he finished high school.

He had his whole life planned and things had been going well. He was going to graduate, maybe do some part time classes but focus mostly on racing, building up his reputation for the big leagues. Kuroo was going to go to college full-time to become an auto mechanic, but Oikawa had made him promise to take the time to continue to be his personal advisor. There was no one like the other man that Oikawa trusted the most, not with specs that could either win him a race or cause him to lose more than just a win.

But life was the most unpredictable thing out there and if there was one thing Oikawa had learned along with that realization, it was that people were fickle. Less than halfway into the school year, only a week after his eighteenth birthday, all of Oikawa’s plans for the future were up in the air for the very first time in the past five years.

Call it an addiction, but racing had become such an integral part of his life that Oikawa didn’t care much for what happened to him as long as he got to sit behind the wheel and take his life into his own hands, even for a few seconds.

So while most people would have been devastated by the idea of a chance at the premiere league taken away from them, that had never been and never _would be_ Oikawa’s priority. If he got to drive, hell, he would have happily lived in the back of his car for the rest of his life, for all he cared.

Thankfully, things never got that far. He may not have had the support of his given family anymore, but family wasn’t always what you were born into. Oikawa had never been one for familial duty; it was stupid to have to do something for people who claimed you had a bond. Bonds were _made_ through trust and mutual respect not _forced_. And family – family had always been a concept Oikawa believed was formed not given.

At 25 years old, Oikawa Tooru was the proud co-owner of _East River Motors_. During the day, he serviced cars, bringing them back to their full potential and at night, his true passion for racing came out under the watch of Tokyo’s, hell, _Japan’s_ best racers; there wasn’t a better audience he could have asked for.

It had been a good seven years since he had last stepped onto a racetrack for an official, televised match – one where he had an entire pit crew all to himself, enough protection to hopefully get him through accidents unharmed and a pre-determined track that would never change. Once he found his way into the streets however, Oikawa realized that driving around in a circle pointlessly was as far from racing as anyone could get. _Real_ racing was on the streets where no rules existed except: _don’t get caught_.

Maybe he had gotten off too easy in life considering the circumstances, because the garage had been doing well and not a day went by that Oikawa didn’t get to feel the thrill of the chase behind the wheel. They had money, they had a reputation, and they had the entertainment to go along with it.

Except one wrong order – one _misstep_ – had earned them a heavy fine, a couple of charges, and put the garage under constant police supervision, which not only decreased their popularity but also put a large financial burden on Oikawa’s back.

He supposed he could have sold some of his cars, but at this point, it was a matter of principle and pride rather than anything else. Oikawa hadn’t done anything _wrong_. Sure, they jacked up cars with modifications that weren’t exactly legal in Japan, and maybe they tweaked bottles of nitrous oxide to fit into their better paying customers’ vehicles, but all of that was legal to an extent.

He was _allowed_ to do it; whatever people did with their cars after that was their own responsibility.

Getting pinned as a front for a drug operation though – now that was entirely illegal and also _false_. For someone who had made the garage their entire life’s work, built it from the bottom up with their bare hands and effort alone, Oikawa refused to take that kind of an accusation standing down.

Unfortunately, while modifying cars wasn’t illegal, it made the police’s job in tracking street racers a lot more difficult, so while they more than likely knew that Oikawa and Kuroo had nothing to do with the drug bust that they were really after, the cops were going to do everything in their power to stick whatever charges they could on the two of them.

It wasn’t an ideal situation, but Oikawa knew that he wasn’t in the wrong, so he’d make it out with his reputation and pride intact, albeit with a few scratches along the way, even if it was with his sheer determination alone.

His only saving grace was that he and Kuroo were in this together; the joint ownership of the garage contributed to their shared responsibility of the falsely accused crime. So while he’d have much rather not have had to deal with any unnecessary police presence, which was driving many of their customers away, he at least had the physical support from his best friend.

It was unfair though, really, that Kuroo was dragged into this mess because of him. If Oikawa had just refused to place an order for a client - a friend, or whatever he was now - from an unknown source, none of this would have happened. It was _his_ mistake that led them down this road, and Kuroo just happened to get caught up in it.

Kuroo tended to get caught up in a lot of Oikawa’s problems though, it seemed.

A cool touch pressing against his forearm caught his attention and prevented his mind from going down that reminiscent path before it could become a black hole of consuming self-doubt.

“You look like you’re constipated,” Kuroo pressed the cold bottle of water deeper into Oikawa’s skin.

“Thanks,” he drawled, rolling his eyes, both at the passive insult and the offered drink.

He dropped the wrench that was clenched tightly in his right hand into the toolbox by his feet and wiped his greased hands against the pants of his coveralls before accepting the drink. The top part of the black uniform had been unzipped, sagging against his thighs – the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath drenched in sweat from the early August heat.

“It’s almost 6 pm,” Kuroo reminded, raising his eyebrows as Oikawa downed the bottle in three large gulps.

It was obvious from the action that he hadn’t eaten or drank anything in a while, but Kuroo knew without Oikawa having to tell him anything. Thankfully, his friend ignored the reaction. The last thing Oikawa wanted was for Kuroo to babysit him; he knew he was in a bit of a tight slump, and no matter how many times Kuroo told him not to blame himself for what happened, Oikawa couldn’t help but feel responsible, anyway.

He hadn’t felt like a burden to someone, especially not the man who had become more like his brother than anything else, in a very long time. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that weighed him down and made him feel like his life was in someone else’s hands. It was the exact opposite of the freedom he felt when he was racing, and the sheer opposition of it all had his hands clenching, anger and stomach coiling in guilt.

“I know,” he said dismissively.

He should have been home by now, which he was very aware of, and he didn’t need Kuroo to point out the obvious. His irritable tone didn’t deter Kuroo from saying what he had come in to say in the first place. Oikawa may have gotten away with a lecture on his bad eating habits, but there was another lecture he certainly wasn’t going to avoid.

“You’ve been at this car since noon. It’s fixed – hell, it’s been fixed since yesterday,” Kuroo deadpanned.

“Well I just wanted to make sure there was absolutely nothing wrong with it before we call in the owner for pick-up. We can’t lose any more customers than we already have, especially not over something that was just easily _missed_ ,” Oikawa shot back.

“Oh don’t give me that,” Kuroo rolled his eyes. He folded his arms over his chest and watched Oikawa through observing eyes for a few moments before he let out an exasperated sigh. “There’s nothing wrong with the car. We get paid for the problem not by the hour, and I know that you know _that_.”

Oikawa glared, mind trying to wrap itself around the subtle accusation. Kuroo lifted his hands up defensively, dismissing any ill thoughts.

“I’m just saying that you should stop fretting over it, and go home, do something fun. Fewer customers also means more time for yourself, which I think you should take advantage of. As soon as the cops leave us alone, I know we’ll get our business back,” he confirmed confidently.

It was unlike Kuroo to be so optimistic. He had always been the more positive one between the two of them – even though that wasn’t saying much – but still, if Kuroo was stooping to the level of having to _comfort_ Oikawa with facts that were nearing on baseless predictions at this point, then Oikawa must have been doing a bad job of hiding his personal thoughts.

Or maybe that just went to show how bad the situation really was. Still, Oikawa could appreciate the consideration in his friend’s voice and he wasn’t that big of an asshole to ignore it completely.

Maybe for one night, he could forget that he still had payments to make on equipment and shipments coming in that he’d have to find cash to pay for. Taking a loan from the bank was a hit to his ego and the loan sharks were completely out of the question. They were part of gangs most of the time and that was one group he was not willing to get involved in, especially considering he had the police sitting outside his establishment twenty-four seven.

Speaking of…

“Are they still outside?” Oikawa asked, jerking his head to the front of the garage. He knew the answer before he even received it, but it had been six hours since he had last spoken to anyone and Oikawa had to admit, it had been getting kind of lonely.

Kuroo to his credit, had left him alone during that time and now, he was here to give Oikawa the company he craved. Maybe it was the ten years of friendship, but the other man always knew what Oikawa needed, sometimes even better than Oikawa himself.

“Yeah. Today we’ve got the one who looks kind of like a monkey, with his skinny build and large ears, along with the officer who smokes so much I’m surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out yet.”

“Oh, dumb and dumber, my favourites,” Oikawa smiled wickedly. “Alright, it’ll be easy to lose them; they’ll what, follow us to our houses and then call it a night? Some of them seem to stay there overnight, thinking I’ll go out but these two don’t usually from what I can tell,” Oikawa recounted, looking for Kuroo for confirmation.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed the same thing,” Kuroo confirmed. “Idiots think that we don’t know they’re tailing our cars,” he rolled his eyes. “Or maybe they think we only _have_ one car,” he smirked.

Oikawa snorted at the reaction. He didn’t have anything against the police, other than the fact that they were the ones he always had to watch out for back when he was still only eighteen and just starting to familiarize himself with the routes around Koto-ku – back when he was only starting to establish himself in the world of Tokyo’s street racing.

They _were_ just doing their jobs after all, and even though they were a huge pain in Oikawa’s ass, as long as he avoided them, there was no reason for him to hate them.

However, having them try and monitor his every move ever since the alleged charges changed his opinion of police officers. There was corruption throughout the entire city – the police department certainly not exempt from this allegation, and although Oikawa shouldn’t have been surprised by the revelation, it also pissed him off.

They were so focused on blaming _someone_ , that they didn’t care whether it was the right person or not. And now that they had an excuse to put people on their shop, they had, which not only was unfair, but it was also driving away a lot of their customers.

No one wanted to be involved in someone who was under the police radar, whether it was because they were trying to avoid getting caught themselves, or because they just wanted to avoid trouble altogether.

Getting caught doing something he _actually_ had a hand in would have been one thing, but being accused of a false crime was a completely different story. Even after all the ‘evidence’ fell through, due to the lack of substantiation, it seemed like Koto’s police department was hell bent on catching him in some sort of illegal activity. Whether it was drug related or not, wasn’t even important to them anymore.

Well, two could play at _that_ game. He’d give them plenty to arrest him for – if only they could catch up to him.

“Who let idiots like that graduate from the academy anyway?” Oikawa chuckled, dislodging the prop rod from the CRV he was working on and closing the hood. He patted it once the lid was pulled down, confirming that it was secure.

“The same people who think we’re running a drug business,” Kuroo quipped.

Oikawa blinked owlishly for a few moments, caught completely off guard by the response. That was the first time they had talked about the problem aloud in the two weeks since they had been freed from court trials and paperwork. After six months of constant struggle to prove their innocence, it wasn’t something either of them wanted to willingly mention anymore.

And for Kuroo to make a joke about it… Oikawa couldn’t help but crack a small smile at his friend’s boldness. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?” he asked, but his words held nothing but affection.

“Hmm, so I’ve been told,” he grinned lazily. “Go home and shower. I’ll clean up around here and meet you by the East 21 Tower. We’re heading to Ariake tonight so gear up.”

“Don’t I always?” Oikawa grinned, eyes lighting up at the mention of his favourite drifting spot. Business may not have been booming as of late, or at all if he was being honest with himself, but maybe he could lift his mood by coming home with a new car. Or maybe some needed cash if he made the right bets.

It had been six and a half months since Oikawa had walked onto the street racing scene, but he would have been lying if he said he didn’t miss it. Driving along the mountain roads was always calming, but there was nothing like the rush of driving in the city streets, lights blinking sporadically through the car windows, adding to the fast paced scene.

Oikawa changed out of his dirty coveralls and into a pair of black sweats and a clean grey t-shirt with the garage logo written in white lettering on the upper left side. He bid Kuroo a farewell once more, before heading out to the back of the garage where his ‘77 Celica was parked.

It was an old car, but it rode well with the modifications. It was the first car he ever bought himself, and by bought, he managed to get it off someone who wanted it gone for a low price. Oikawa couldn’t understand why – sure it wasn’t brand new and the engine was damaged as hell, but with the right lubrication and care, he was sure he could fix it up. It wasn’t exactly fit for racing anymore, but it got him around, and that was all that really mattered when the best of his collection was at the storage anyway.

Five minutes away from his apartment, his phone lit up. Oikawa chanced a quick glance at the device fit snugly in the phone holder attached to the dash and scowled at the name that popped up on the screen.

He didn’t have time to deal with people who pissed him off, least of all tonight, the first night in more than half a year that he was using for himself.

He ignored the call, but he should have known better because not even five seconds after the call disconnected, his phone was ringing again.

Sighing, Oikawa hit the receive button.

“If you’ve got the nerve to call me after skipping town for six fucking months, it had better be because you’re about to make my day better and _not_ because you want something, _again_ ,” he growled before Semi had the chance to even pitch his case.

The line was silent for a few seconds, and Oikawa felt a surge of panic rise through him but the nervous chuckle on the other side of the phone relaxed him only moments later, if only to bring a disgruntled expression to his face.

_“I guess I should just hang up then before I get chewed out.”_

“Probably,” Oikawa agreed, not even bothering to hide the displeasure in his voice. “What do you want?”

Semi paused for half a second before diving into it. _“A place to stay. I know you’re tight on money but I swear I’ll pay you to let me crash for three nights, a week,_ max _,”_ he pleaded.

The scowl on Oikawa’s face deepened, his grip on the steering wheel tightened. Even in the dim evening light, he could see the whites of his knuckles shine against the black leather grip around the steering wheel.

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re broke, got kicked out of your current place for not meeting rent payments, _again_ , and want to mooch off of me with absolutely no intentions of paying me for the trouble?” Oikawa asked knowingly.

He probably should have asked Semi where he had been the past six months, but the less he knew about the other man, the better off he would be.

_“I swear I’ll pay you– ”_

“Listen up, _Semi-chan_. We both know I’m not an idiot, even though my previous trust in you was misguided. You’ve got some nerve calling me after the bullshit you put me and Kuroo through, so tell me the fucking truth or so help me god, I _will_ make you regret ever calling me in the first place,” he growled, shifting gears and taking a sharp left as he almost missed his street in his anger.

A car honked behind him, the passing streetlight having turned green right as he decided to make his turn. Oikawa ignored the angry driver, opting to focus his attention half on the road in front of him and half on the phone call.

 _“Okay, fine, I have no way to pay you back. Not right now anyway, but I’m telling you the truth. Charge me whatever you want, I will pay you back,”_ he confirmed.

“How about all the fines you cost me then? Think you can make that up?” Oikawa asked vindictively. It wasn’t like he was expecting the other man to agree, but the anger he had bottled up inside of him finally had a source to lash out on.

 _“Oikawa,”_ Semi pleaded.

“What? You thought I’d forget all about it? I knew you were tight on money but I didn’t think you’d stoop to meddling with gangs, let alone drag me and Kuroo into the middle of it. You think you’ve got problems? Try having the cops ruin your business. You’re lucky I didn’t rat you out in the first place, but that’s as far as your luck goes. Either you pay up for the trouble you caused, or I’m not giving you _shit_ ,” Oikawa threatened.

 _“My car then. You can have my car,”_ Semi sighed.

Oikawa pursed his lips. “Is that supposed to be a joke? Do you think I’d believe you’d just _give me_ your car when you could sell it for money instead? You’re really testing my patience here,” Oikawa tutted impatiently. “If you called me for a fucking laugh, I’m hanging up.”

 _“No,_ please _. I mean, I’ll let you use it, do whatever you want with it as a form of insurance. Let me buy it back from you with the money I owe. It’s the only thing I have that’s truly mine, and you_ know _I can’t sell it,”_ he said shakily.

Oikawa grit his teeth in anger as he thought the proposal over. He pulled into the alleyway behind the small two story apartment building where his home was situated, and turned the engine and headlights off, throwing his head back against the soft headrest a couple of times to maybe try and knock some sense into him.

 _“Oikawa? You still there?”_ Semi asked, cutting through the silence.

“Yeah, just thinking,” he admitted, grabbing his phone with one hand and duffel bag on the passenger seat containing his work clothes in the other. He kicked the car door closed gently before making his way around to the front and climbing up the black, metal stairs lining the left corner of the building that connected the ground to the second floor.

The sun had almost completely set behind the horizon and although his second floor apartment didn’t give him a great view of the city skyline, there was a small space peaking out behind two larger office buildings in the area that allowed some of the light from the dipping sun to come through, splaying the darkening oranges and purples across his apartment door and the red brick wall that made up the building foundation.

It was almost picturesque, and Oikawa would have given a second thought to the scene had it not been for the looming voice on the other side of the line that reminded him of the reality he was living in; the easy-going sunlight washing warm tones over him didn’t help soothe any of his worries.

“ _One_ week,” Oikawa sighed heavily, knowing that he’d regret the decision immediately. “And I’m keeping your car for as long as you owe me money,” he reminded. He honestly didn’t think Semi would just _give_ him his prized Lexus LFA, but this wasn’t the kind of opportunity Oikawa got every day.

In the end, he knew that it was going to be more than just a week, max – as Semi had put it – and that somehow, Semi would try and get the car back from him before his dues were up, but Oikawa wouldn’t let him.

It didn’t matter the kind of history he and Semi had – it didn’t matter if Oikawa had been the one to teach Semi how to drift, how to _race_ in the Tokyo streets where the night was the most active time of the day.

This wasn’t like the first time Semi entered a race, hyped up from the atmosphere and the thrill of driving behind the wheel of a red, Toyota Supra that he had worked on. Albeit, the car _had_ been borrowed and he lost it due to the excitement, but that had been when money wasn’t tight and Oikawa had let him work on another car, learn to race better and win back what he had lost.

Those times no longer existed, and Oikawa may have been stupid enough to give in to the temptation of a better past memory, but he wasn’t that much of an idiot to willingly fuck himself over again. He was giving Semi a chance despite every sign telling him _not to_ , but not without putting some rules into place first.

_“Thanks, man I knew– ”_

“You didn’t let me finish,” Oikawa said curtly, jamming the key into the key lock and twisting the door open.

He locked the door behind him, tossed his keys on the small kitchen table and dropped his duffle bag off in his room. When he had the time, he would have to remember to do laundry again – or at least wash some of his dirty work clothes.

“I’m keeping your car, and not because you’re giving it to me, but because I’m winning it. On a lease of course, so you can have it back under the right circumstances, but I’ll get it from you fair and square, or I’m not taking it at all, got it?” he asked in a tone that didn’t leave much room for argument.

 _“Come on, why can’t you just take what I’m giving you?”_ Semi asked indignantly.

“Do I look like a beggar to you?” Oikawa snapped. “But since you _are_ one, you don’t have the luxury to choose. I’m not playing your games. If you want something from me, you’ll play by my rules. We’re meeting at Ariake at 10 pm. Bring your car and come to win. I want a real race, or I guess you’ll be running off to your petty gang friends for a place to stay,” he growled.

Semi grunted, which Oikawa took as some sort of consent. His face twisted at the less than pleased response.

“And if you don’t show, don’t even think about calling me again or I won’t hold back on telling the cops about your drug involvement anymore,” he added threateningly.

 _“Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’ll be there, thanks,”_ Semi sighed, hanging up before Oikawa could remind him some more of how much he’d fucked him over. Not that Oikawa _liked_ doing that. But if Semi was going to come to him for a second chance, Oikawa was going to milk the opportunity to chew him out for all that it was worth.

In his annoyance, he hadn’t realized that Semi had hung up until the sound of a dial tone filled the silence in his small, two-bedroom apartment. Oikawa locked his phone and tossed it down on his bed instead of flinging it across the room like his brain was telling him to.

Semi hadn’t always been such a dick though, and Oikawa found it hard to differentiate between the Semi he used to know and the man his past student and friend had become.

At one point, he had apprenticed with Oikawa and Kuroo. He was the same age as them, but he had gone to college late, choosing to pay his way through it himself instead of depending on loans. When Oikawa had found out about how he had worked for a good two and a half years at a hole-in-the-wall ramen shop, saving up before actually going to school for a mechanic’s degree, he had taken him in for the apprenticeship he needed to complete the practical part of his program.

He had been with them for a year, and visited often even after he graduated and moved on to work in a different garage in Edogawa. At the time, Oikawa had thought nothing of it, and maybe he should have known better considering Semi was always coming to them with cheap discounts and ‘wholesale’ prices on car parts that should have been a lot more expensive than what Oikawa and Kuroo were paying for them.

But he hadn’t thought Semi would do anything stupidly illegal. Kuroo was a lot more distrusting than Oikawa was, and Oikawa should have definitely listened to him when he said they needed to hang less around the other man, especially after he was no longer officially affiliated with them.

The truth was: Oikawa had been fooled by the ‘kid fighting his own way through college’ trait, which hit so close to home for him. Kuroo may have gone through college to get his degree at the same time as Oikawa had, just so they could finish school together, but his parents had been there to support him when he needed them.

It wasn’t to say that Oikawa appreciated Kuroo any less; he loved the man more than anyone else in the world and he was more than a friend, he was his brother, but something about Semi’s life had struck a chord with Oikawa.

He should have seen all the signs before they hit him like a rock in the face, sudden and _hard_. There were a lot of things he _should_ have done, and maybe letting Semi stay with him wasn’t going to make any of his regrets better – in fact it would probably make them worse – but this time, Oikawa was going to keep a handle on the situation.

Semi’s gang affiliations weren’t going to do any good for the business, but if Semi was willing to let Oikawa have his car as a form of insurance, then Oikawa could believe that the other man wanted to change his ways. If he was actually going to be able to turn himself around though would be a different story. But a part of Oikawa was hesitant to kick someone who was at least willing to _try_ to the curb.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his sweaty, brown hair, tugging at the strands in an attempt to ground him to reality.

Kuroo was going to _kill_ him.

They had enough trouble of their own having to deal with the cops who were _still_ on their tails for who knew how long. Although Semi had been the one to convince Oikawa to place an order with a _sworn_ contact of his, which had resulted in a delivery of two kilograms of cocaine to the garage, the man had ended up getting out of the whole spectacle without even a scratch.

Not that Oikawa hadn’t been tempted to pin the blame on him – they wouldn’t have been doing anything wrong had they said so, but in the end, that would have just resulted in a bigger mess.

By that point, Oikawa and Kuroo had figured out that Semi was pretty broke and only got caught up in some street gangs because of the garage he chose to work at. It was just _unlucky_ , a wrong place wrong time thing, and as much as they wanted to hate him for what happened, it was more than likely that the other man was also just a scapegoat throughout the whole mess.

At least they hadn’t gone to jail either, the amount of the delivery saving them from a heavier fine. Still Oikawa had no proof that Semi was clean _now_. It was more than likely that Semi was going to somehow rope him into one of his plans, _again_ , even if it was unwillingly, but a week wouldn’t be so bad. He had been for six and a half months anyway – what was another extra week?

Plus he’d have a car for a long time to hold as leverage over the man. If Semi was _this_ desperate, he wouldn’t be able to make the money up soon, especially considering the heavy fine Oikawa had just placed on the other man’s head.

It didn’t really matter how long Semi took to pay Oikawa back. Oikawa hadn’t actually expected to get any money out of the man in the first place considering Semi had all but disappeared in the days since the charges were first laid on Oikawa and Kuroo. Be it days, weeks, months, _years_ – so long as Oikawa had his car, Semi _would_ pay up.

And if he didn’t get the money, then he would get a car out of it.

Oikawa convinced himself that this wasn’t a bad idea despite the warning bells in his head as he raided his cupboard for a clean towel. Once he was showered and shaved what little stubble that had grown in, scrubbing away the smell of the garage which would only come back to stick on his clothes later that night, he picked his phone back up from where he had tossed it unceremoniously on the bed earlier.

 _[Subject: i have news]_  
To: Tetsu  
>> guess who you’re racing tonight

He placed the phone back on the bed, some of the droplets from his wet hair dripping down and wetting the dark grey bedspread. He adjusted the towel around his waist and found a smaller one to hang around his neck, catching the water from his hair before it could drip down his back.

There was still an hour left until he had to meet Kuroo at their usual meeting spot, but before Oikawa could contemplate between getting changed or draping his long limbs across the bed and taking a quick nap, his phone chimed, indicating a new message.

 _[Subject: sounds fucking terrible]_  
From: Tetsu  
>> i stg u better not have signed me up for something i’ll end up killing u for

 _[Subject: sounds fucking terrible]_  
To: Tetsu  
>> easy win i swear !! by the end of the night you’ll be the proud owner of a Lexus LFA

Oikawa smiled wryly, dropping down with his back against the bed, legs dangling over the short, wooden frame. Kuroo would know for sure who it was without Oikawa even having to say the name.

 _[Subject: sounds fucking terrible]_  
From: Tetsu  
>> i told u to stay away from him you dipshit  
>> but i guess if he’s willing to bet his car it must be serious  
>> why can’t u do it instead? 

_[Subject: sounds fucking terrible]_  
To: Tetsu  
>> bc i'll probably do something stupid like let him have it back  
>> you’re going to keep his car until he pays us back for the trouble

 _[Subject: sounds fucking terrible]_  
From: Tetsu  
>> don’t u mean *if* he ever does

_[Subject: sounds fucking terrible]_  
To: Tetsu  
>> w/e just be happy you’re getting a new ride out of this

_[Subject: sounds fucking terrible]_  
From: Tetsu  
>> i hate u

 _[Subject: sounds fucking terrible]_  
To: Tetsu  
>> ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

Letting Kuroo race Semi for his car was definitely so that the right to give it back to him was out of Oikawa’s hands. But also, if Kuroo won the car, he would be less likely to give Oikawa shit for making this deal without consulting him in the first place.

And if Semi didn’t like that it wasn’t Oikawa who was going to be keeping a hold on his car, well then, that just made Oikawa’s life a tad bit easier.

Kuroo had said something about having fun, and his night had _definitely_ gotten interesting. But somehow, Oikawa had a feeling this wasn’t what his friend meant.

Still, it was the best Oikawa had felt in the past six and a half months.

Something about the thrill of being around cars again, the kind that were sleek, and fast, and worth more than entire establishments, had put a genuine smile on his face – one that hadn’t been around for a long time.

Tonight was definitely going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, i know. WHERE TF IS IWA-CHAN? i'm trying to establish the characters and how they know one another/what they do so please bear w/ me while i get everything out there before the real action begins! i swear there will be lots of it! 
> 
> next time:  
> \- Daichi and Iwaizumi break up a fight, Kyoutani gets a black eye, Bokuto suffers  
> \- Oikawa's late, Kuroo's pissed
> 
> so many new characters in the next chapter, ahh! there's also going to be an appearance by Tsukishima and Suga, so i hope you're excited!
> 
> leave me a comment or kudos to let me know what you thought, pretty please? ♡


	2. no place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ain't no coming back home_  
>  _can't come around_  
>  _there ain't no place_  
>  \-- **when a man does wrong** \- ashanti

For as long as he could remember, Iwaizumi had always done what he was told to do, no questions asked. Growing up in one of the roughest neighbourhoods in Tokyo, he wasn’t exactly given a choice in the matter. To survive, you had to fit in, and to fit in, you had to do what you were told by the people with the power – the ones who controlled the neighbourhood and by extension, your life.

Iwaizumi had long-since discovered that power co-existed with money, which also fell hand-in-hand with influence, and as much as the residents hated the power dynamics that controlled the neighbourhood, there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could or was willing to do to change the situation.

Since the very beginning, Ueno had always been ridden with gangsters; its convenient location right on the border of Taito and Chuo made it a good spot for extortion. Taito wasn’t the richest of wards, most of the people living there were in the lower end of the bracket, quite a few even below the poverty line; but the infamous Chuo, the small ward south of the poverty-ridden Taito was buzzing with affluent people, large office buildings, and incredible infrastructure.

The proximity between the two wards, compared to the difference in living standards was strange to some, but it was this kind of strategic planning that let the two wards cohabitate in symphony.

Taito was the heart of the yakuza, and Chuo was the base of the operations. Keeping the two locations separated, not only helped spread the influence across multiple neighbourhoods, but it also made things harder to track. Although the knowledge was widespread, finding information, or finding _people_ willing to attack some of the strongest clans in the city, was a completely different story.

It wasn’t something that Iwaizumi necessarily _liked_ , but it got him by in life. It put a roof on his head, food on the table, and enough money to send his dad and his grandmother as far away from Tokyo as he could, where they could live a life outside of the rough neighbourhood that they never believed they had a chance of escaping.

He hadn’t necessarily sold his soul to any one group – Iwaizumi refused to pledge his allegiance anywhere – but that didn’t mean that he turned down any jobs either.

At first, it was because he didn’t really have a choice in the matter but now, it meant he kept his options open. Keeping options open meant more work opportunities, and the more work he did, the more money he had at his disposal. In these parts of town, money was _everything_.

No one listened to someone without money and influence, and if no one listened to you, you were practically livestock, up for slaughter at any time.

Iwaizumi had learned the ways of the neighbourhood early on. His dad had tried to deter him away from it, hoping to push Iwaizumi into the quieter, more subdued life, but Iwaizumi had always been too stubborn for his own good. He had grown up watching the weak get pushed around. He didn’t want to be one of the powerful guys, the ones who placed hits on people’s head just for not making up rent in a system they had all but created, but he didn’t want to be _weak_ either.

Surprisingly, it was his grandmother who told him to do everything that he could to _survive_ , because for people like them, the ones who never had the chance to make a name for themselves, Iwaizumi was their everything.

He was intelligent enough to know when to speak his mind and when to keep his opinions to himself; he was strong, worked hard to be able to defend himself and he was good-looking as well. He knew when to choose flattery over brute strength, and he had the kind of aura that made people want to listen to him, made people want to _follow_ him. He was kind when the occasion called for it, but tough when he had to be. He could calm someone down from a fit with a few words, and have them begging for his forgiveness with the next.

It was a heavy burden to carry, knowing that the support of most of your neighbourhood lay on your shoulders at all times, but it had been a long time since Iwaizumi had felt that way.

Somewhere between it all, he had learned to do things for _himself_ , and that made all the difference. It didn’t matter if the faith of his small neighbourhood was thrown at him, _sewn_ into him in a way that made it impossible to shed. It didn’t matter if people put expectations on his head, ones that made it downright impossible for him to fail.

Iwaizumi had never liked the idea of being _weak_ , and he had long-since come to the conclusion that he would do whatever he could to get away from that word. And if it meant doing the dirty work, the kind of stuff nobody liked to get their hands on, then so be it. At least it earned him a place in this shitty life, and a makeshift family that he had come to love along the way.

“Iwaizumi,” called Daichi’s deep voice.

He poked his head through the small door opening at the back of the warehouse where they had set up their home. The door that fit the frame hadn’t been there when they first bought the place, and no one had ever brought up fixing it, so the metal frame remained with a hole in between where a door should have been.

The warehouse itself was large, with two separate open spaces connected to one another through a narrow path. The larger part was used to house their cars, a makeshift garage of sorts without all the fancy technology. The smaller part of the warehouse was where they lived: ate, slept, and hung out when there was time for it.

The second floor was all bedrooms, not really private but privacy wasn’t a problem with chosen family. The first floor contained a kitchen, a bathroom, a living area and a couple of small desks thrown together for a makeshift office. Iwaizumi’s own office was at the back of the warehouse, slightly separated from the rest, but not so far off that no one could see what was happening inside, or that he couldn’t peak over the stack of papers obstructing his line of sight and take a quick look around the floor.

“What’s up?” Iwaizumi asked, beckoning Daichi closer, but the man shook his head.

“You might want to come with me,” he grimaced, jerking his head to the back door and walking away before Iwaizumi could even respond.

Iwaizumi sighed, not liking the tone of his friend’s voice but giving in because it wasn’t like he had a choice. He pushed the beat-up navy chair away from the metal desk, flinching slightly against the screeching sound that came with the action. He crushed the empty beer can he had gripped in his hand before tossing it into the trash and craned his neck around the floor, catching sight of Daichi’s back disappearing out the back door.

Whatever had happened, it couldn’t have been good. The fact that he was being _shown_ something rather than _told_ the problem put him on edge. He clenched his fists tightly, throwing open the door with more vigour than was needed.

The night was cool and calm, a slight breeze passing by to break up the serene atmosphere. The sky was so black that the stars should have been visible had it not been for the polluted air and the streetlights dotting the fenced in complex. It could have been nice, but the scene playing out in front of him ruined the mood.

His eyes narrowed when he saw Kyoutani’s black car with the engine whirring loudly, and headlight on, no driver inside. It didn’t take Iwaizumi long to find Bokuto and Kyoutani, rolling around on the dusty ground right outside the car, dried mud throwing a cloud of dust around their figures, hands fisted into each other’s shirts, an angry scowl etched deeply into both of their faces.

It didn’t seem like either of the two duking it out had noticed Iwaizumi and Daichi arrive; they were too busy throwing punches, most of them landing on the ground instead of at each other’s faces. But then Kyoutani managed to pin Bokuto into the ground, and under the fluorescent white lights lined around the concrete roof of the warehouse, Iwaizumi could see the black eye that the younger man was sporting.

Under any other circumstance, Iwaizumi might have let them fight it out, not bothering to care to get in the middle of their argument – they were usually stupid anyway – but today had been a bad day, and Iwaizumi had a nagging feeling that he knew just what the two were fighting about.

He nodded to Daichi who moved behind Kyoutani, locking both of his arms behind his back and tugging hard enough to pull him up and off of Bokuto.

“What in the _fuck_ is your problem?” Kyoutani growled, but Daichi’s face remained impassively calm. He just tightened his lock on Kyoutani’s arms, the younger man’s back being stretched out from the uncomfortable pull. He thrashed forward, eventually rearing his head back in an attempt to head butt Daichi in the face.

“Oi, knock it off!” Iwaizumi barked at Kyoutani, bending down to help Bokuto up. It didn’t seem like he had taken any hits to his face, but the way he was breathing heavily indicated that he probably had taken one to the stomach. He muttered a thanks, which Iwaizumi brushed off, face stern and focused on Kyoutani instead.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he narrowed his eyes at Kyoutani. He was still struggling against Daichi who hadn’t released his hold on the blonde.

“ _Me_? Why don’t you ask _him_ that?” Kyoutani yelled, jerking his head at Bokuto who was now leaning against the rusting back door.

He looked up at the mention of his name and narrowed his gold eyes at Kyoutani who responded with a feral look of his own. Bokuto opened his mouth to retort, probably snap at Kyoutani for speaking out like an asshole, but Iwaizumi beat him to it.

“Who gave you that shiner?” he asked, knowing that it probably wasn’t Bokuto. If he wanted to, he could have, but Bokuto wasn’t the type to hit his friends, even when he was provoked. He was always the more easy-going one out of them all, and to see him this pissed must have meant he was angry for a reason.

Kyoutani scowled, disgruntled by the treatment, but eventually mumbled, “Kenji.”

Iwaizumi felt his heart sink at the mention of the name. At this point, he’d have rather it been Bokuto who threw a punch at Kyoutani’s face.

“So then why were you trying to get back at Bokuto for it?” he pressed.

“That’s not what I was trying to do!” Kyoutani defended. He howled when Daichi pulled at his arms tighter at his rude tone. He turned his head to the side to glare at the older man, but Daichi’s face remained as stern as ever. “I swear that’s not what happened, come on, let me go,” he said angrily.

Iwaizumi sighed then nodded at Daichi who released his hold. Kyoutani turned around and growled in his face, but the moment Daichi’s eyes narrowed, he stepped back.

“This idiot was going after Kenji,” Bokuto managed to wheeze out in the midst of catching his breath. “Something about how Kenji was no longer in the mercenary business and instead had joined up with the yakuza,” he narrowed his eyes.

This was definitely not the kind of conversation Iwaizumi had wanted to discuss tonight. He had found out only a few hours ago himself, and had been planning on telling the rest of the group tomorrow. Iwaizumi ran a hand though his messy, dark brown hair, stepping forward so that he was face to face with Kyoutani.

“So you were going to do what? Go after him? Make him change his mind? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not here to make anyone _do_ anything. It was his choice and he’s going to have to live with it,” Iwaizumi said angrily.

Kyoutani was silent for a few moments and Iwaizumi thought that the conversation was over until the gears started clicking and Kyoutani’s confused expression turned aggressive once more.

“You _knew_ ,” he accused. “You fucking knew and you were just going to let him do whatever the hell he wants? You _know_ what happens to guys like us, the ones without the family ties when we join the big gangs. They throw us out to the dogs to chew and we end up _dead_ ,” he yelled, voice echoing out in the empty space around them.

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi asked, stepping up and grabbing the front of Kyoutani’s shirt tightly in his fist. He pulled the other man closer until their faces were only inches apart. “And you know what happens to punks like you who meddle in business that’s not their own? You end up dead as well,” Iwaizumi growled, pushing Kyoutani back so suddenly, the other man stumbled to catch himself.

He didn’t need Kyoutani to tell him what he already knew. Kenji hadn’t been part of their group, but he _was_ one of them and losing him was tough. Iwaizumi had only found out that evening from Aone, who no doubt told him because he thought Iwaizumi could convince Kenji to stand down. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of thing Iwaizumi could do even if he had wanted to and he _did_.

If Kenji was leaving, it was too late. He had probably made plans a long time ago, and there was no backing out for him now. Once you pledged yourself to a gang, there was no way that you could get out.

It was probably Aone who told Kyoutani about it too, knowing that if Iwaizumi wouldn’t do something about it, the younger man would. Aone was a nice guy, Iwaizumi liked him just fine, but that didn’t mean that he appreciated Aone messing with his friends, albeit unintentionally. Kyoutani was too easy to manipulate – he ran on his emotions like they were his fuel. He probably saw this as a betrayal on Kenji’s part but he had never been one to take anything standing down.

“So you’re really not going to do anything about it?” Kyoutani asked one last time, voice firm, face pulled down into a hard frown.

“Yeah, I’m not going to do anything,” Iwaizumi confirmed. “He’s not my responsibility, _you_ are. And right now, all I’m going to do is make sure you don’t end up getting yourself killed for someone who isn’t worth it.”

That was harsh, even for him, but Iwaizumi wasn’t going to back down from his stance either. Iwaizumi had nothing against Kenji, but if he had chosen to ally himself with the yakuza, there wasn’t a single thing anyone could do for him now.

Iwaizumi could see the appeal of it, he really could: nicer clothes, fancy apartments, the money, the _toys_. It was the luxury that brought the appeal, and it was easy to fall into its pretence. Kenji wasn’t a stupid guy, but anyone could be fooled by the extravagance and the _comfort_.

It was by no means a steady job, but then again, neither was what they did.

It sucked though, knowing that Kyoutani was right. Kenji was a dead man sooner or later. He had no connections, nothing to stop him from being the scapegoat. The only reason the yakuza took in people like them in the first place was to have someone to do the dirty work. As long as Iwaizumi was getting paid, he didn’t care what he did, but an affiliation was something that came with a lot more responsibility that he didn’t want.

The people standing around him understood that, if their hard faces and subdued anger was anything to go by.

“You’re just too chicken shit to actually try!” Kyoutani baited.

Iwaizumi grit his teeth, knowing that he should have just ignored Kyoutani. He was more bark than bite anyway, and after a few hours, or maybe a few days of cooling off, things would go back to normal and they’d pretend that they didn’t lose someone else to the pits of the mob life.

But he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t annoyed. It wasn’t that it was _Kenji_ that had anything to do with it; it was the fact that this wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, and frankly, it was starting to get on Iwaizumi’s nerves the way people could be so fucking stupid. The way they lived their lives as mercenaries wasn’t the best, but at least they were _free_ : unbound and unchained.

Sure, they still lived on yakuza turf and whatever jobs they did, they only got fifty percent of the cut, but that was better than nothing, and it was _certainly_ better than selling your soul to the devil.

“You want me to take on the yakuza myself? And do what? _Ask_ them to stop taking our people?” Iwaizumi laughed bitterly.

Kyoutani had the decency to flush at the statement.

“Kyoutani, go inside and cool off,” Daichi ordered, nudging the younger man slightly to get him moving in the direction of the door.

Kyoutani opened his mouth to retort before closing it smartly. He nodded, begrudgingly tossing his car keys to Daichi to put back where it belonged before dragging his feet past Iwaizumi and Bokuto who was still leaning against the door. Bokuto shuffled sideways to let Kyoutani pass through, straightening up now that he had caught his breath, while Daichi drove Kyoutani’s car back to the garage.

“Don’t listen to him,” Bokuto said gently once the door had swung shut loudly behind Kyoutani’s retreating figure. “He’s just pissed off because they were friends and he thinks he’s responsible so he’s looking for someone to blame. It wasn’t his fault and it certainly isn’t yours,” he said firmly.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agreed, throat dry, mind swirling around the accusations Kyoutani had thrown at him. “I know it’s not but– ”

“But nothing,” Bokuto said decisively. “To be honest, I think he’s more pissed about the black eye,” he smirked, lightening the mood up significantly.

Iwaizumi snorted at the mention. “I hate to admit it, but it was a pretty good one,” he agreed. “Thanks for stopping him by the way. Sorry you got caught up in that,” he motioned to Bokuto’s side, which he had still clutched firmly between his fingers even if he was standing up straighter than earlier.

“It’s fine, I’m just glad that I managed to get to him before he did something stupid,” he waved off, ignoring the thanks. “That’s what we do though, right? Look after our own?” he smiled.

Iwaizumi swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, we do.”

Bokuto beamed at him and Iwaizumi was hit with a tightening in his chest. He was lucky to have someone as loyal as Bokuto on his side. Hell, he was lucky to have people as loyal as Daichi and Kyoutani, even if the latter was hotheaded and irrational.

He had met Daichi and Bokuto when they were teenagers, all of them coming from different neighbourhoods in Ueno, and all of them with the same goal in mind. They had leaned on one another, learned from one another, _taught_ one another, and a favour like that could never be repaid in anything but loyalty and trust.

Kyoutani was a bit different. He was the kid that was always following Iwaizumi around ever since they were young. He had lived in the apartment across from him, until his mother passed away and there was no one else to take care of him so Iwaizumi’s grandmother took him into their own home. He was two years Iwaizumi’s junior and had always been the younger brother to him, which contributed to his attitude and familiarity with Iwaizumi.

“Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll tape you up,” Iwaizumi offered, jerking his head to Bokuto’s stomach, which was more than likely bruised.

Kyoutani really had no idea how lucky he was that Bokuto had been the one to find him on his emotional rampage and stop him from doing something he’d regret. Had it been Iwaizumi or Daichi, they wouldn’t have held back as much as Bokuto obviously had.

Bokuto nodded and pulled open the door, letting Iwaizumi pass through it first before coming in behind him. Iwaizumi led him to the kitchen, and while Bokuto sat at the peeling wooden table, he searched for the athletic tape they had stored somewhere in the one of the cabinets.

Kyoutani had presumably gone upstairs, which was fine. If he wanted to be alone, that was better than him trying to misdirect his anger at anyone else. It was pretty quiet in the warehouse, some of the tension from Kyoutani’s aggravation having rubbed off on all of them. Bokuto looked like he wanted to say something; Iwaizumi could see him bite his lip worriedly then part them slightly before clamping them shut again.

He wanted to know what the other man was thinking just as much as Bokuto obviously wanted to tell him, but Iwaizumi didn’t push it. Instead, he focused on taping Bokuto’s bruised abdomen to the best of his abilities. If Kyoutani had broken a rib, things wouldn’t have been as calm but luckily for the asshole, he hadn’t done too much harm.

Just when Iwaizumi was finished taping Bokuto up, Daichi came in, expression unreadable but not unpleasant.

“I got a call from someone I know,” he said vaguely. Iwaizumi raised a brow questioningly and Daichi flushed. “There’s apparently a big showing in Koto-ku tonight. It’s been a long week and I figure Kyoutani could use the excuse the blow off some steam. Wanna go?”

Iwaizumi shrugged, then looked to Bokuto who grinned and gave him a thumbs up, a sign that he was ready to bounce back on his feet. A little bit of bruising wasn’t going to keep him down, anyway.

“Kyoutani!” Iwaizumi yelled, throwing his head up so his voice would carry over to the second floor.

A few moments later, a disgruntled, “ _What_?” came from upstairs.

“We’re going out. Get dressed,” he ordered.

“I _am_ dressed,” Kyoutani shouted back. There was shuffling of feet and a creaking of the bed before Kyoutani’s face popped over the railing, looking down at Iwaizumi, Bokuto and Daichi who were hovering around in the kitchen below. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he frowned, looking down at his baggy black sweats and grey muscle tee.

“Nothing, I guess, if you want people to think you’re a newbie. Daichi’s friend said there’s going to be a lot of people in Koto tonight. You up for it?” Iwaizumi asked.

It wasn’t exactly a peace offering, but it _was_ a chance for Kyoutani to cool his head. There was nothing that felt better than blowing off steam through racing. If he lost, he’d have a reason to be pissed, and if he won, he had something to be happy out. In the end, it was a situation that was good for them all – a stress reliever of sorts.

It was also a way for them to make money without doing any work, as long as the right bets were placed. They had Bokuto though, the king of getting lucky in every way possible so the night was already looking up, despite the day’s news.

“Then what are we still waiting here for? Let’s go,” Kyoutani confirmed, pushing himself back against the railing and disappearing into the rooms.

Iwaizumi could hear him shuffling through his dresser for clothes. He huffed a laugh at the change in the younger man’s mood.

He may have been dense, but he was also easy to please and couldn’t hide a secret to save his life. Those were the kinds of people Iwaizumi wanted to be associated with, and even if Kyoutani had a loud mouth and a brash attitude, at the end of the day, he _was_ a good guy. So he could say whatever he wanted to Iwaizumi because Iwaizumi _knew_ it was just the other man’s anger talking and not his heart.

* * *

“You’re late,” Kuroo tutted when Oikawa walked up from the underground, looking like he knew exactly what time it was.

He did, and he knew that Kuroo wouldn’t believe any excuse he gave for why he _was_ late, other than the fact that he didn’t want to show up early.

After all, it had been more than half a year since he and Kuroo had shown their faces around that part of town and Oikawa would have been lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit nervous. But he did his best to hide his anxiety, dressed as usual to impress. The only person who could tell he was even the least bit worried was Kuroo and Oikawa chalked that up to their ten years of friendship.

He gave a sheepish grin in apology, throwing his hand up in a short wave before tucking it back into the pocket of his black MA1 bomber jacket as he walked over. He was dressed in a pair of blue-grey skinny jeans, ripped at both knees, a plain white t-shirt with the jacket thrown on top and black Nikes. His signature black face mask with tiny white crowns dotting the bottom edge was strung over his ears, and pulled down under the slope of his neck to expose his face.

“What’s up, Tsukki?” Oikawa asked, waving to Kuroo’s boyfriend.

He was stalled behind the wheel of his own car, which meant he was joining them tonight as well. Oikawa couldn’t help but get excited at the thought; it had been a while since the three of them went out together like this.

“Hey, Oikawa,” Tsukishima replied, rolling his eyes slightly at Oikawa’s chipper attitude despite the time that it was. Oikawa grinned, knowing that he was probably just pretending to be annoyed with him for being _late_.

If anything, Tsukishima was the person who knew what Oikawa and Kuroo had been through the best besides the two of them. He was a little tetchy at times, but a good friend and Oikawa kind of liked his snarky personality. He could understand the reason for it anyway, but once you got past the spiky exterior, he was caring and kind, the type of person who would do anything for the people he cared about the most.

“Not working tonight?” he questioned, pointing to Tsukishima’s casual outfit, bartending uniform nowhere in sight.

“No, I had an early shift,” Tsukishima explained.

“Oi, you can chat it up elsewhere. Get in,” Kuroo reminded, honking at Oikawa for good measure.

“My bad,” Oikawa shrugged, getting into the passenger seat of Kuroo’s dark grey M5.

The usual silver rims had been exchanged for reflective dark red ones and Oikawa would never admit it aloud, but it did look pretty fucking cool, reflecting the streetlights at night, even if it screamed _douche_ ; Kuroo pulled the look off easily.

He rolled down the window as soon as he got in, and let his hand hang out, enjoying the slight breeze that had taken over the summer night. It wasn’t too hot, but the night always felt calmer with the wind rustling the world around him, reminding Oikawa that everything _existed_.

“Seatbelt,” Kuroo clucked his tongue in reminder.

Oikawa huffed but pulled it on all the same. Kuroo shifted gears and pulled out of the parking lot silently once Oikawa had clasped the seatbelt in safely, Tsukishima driving out behind them. They conversation was dull for a little while, Kuroo driving quietly and Oikawa laying his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes as the wind rushed between his open fingers that were still hanging out over the rolled down window.

Whether he was sitting in the driver’s seat or the passenger’s seat – although Oikawa preferred to be the one behind the wheel – the familiarity of being in a car was something that always calmed Oikawa down.

“So, what happened with Semi?” Kuroo asked, cutting to the chase not even a few seconds after they hit the freeway. He rolled up the open windows slightly, the fast speeds making it difficult to hear over the rush of noise outside.

No matter the time of day, Tokyo’s streets were always packed, but the night time made it seem more alive, neon lights shining from all parts of the city, adding to the vivacity.

“Can’t you just race him, take his car, and not ask any questions?” Oikawa smiled wryly.

Kuroo scoffed. “After what he did to us, to _you_?” he asked venomously. “Tell me what happened,” he said again.

Oikawa sighed, ready for Kuroo to chew him out. He deserved it, at any rate. “He called me after I left the garage and asked if he could stay at my place.”

“You had better not have said yes,” Kuroo narrowed his eyes, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He shifted gears as they exited off a ramp and onto a smaller highway. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he said exasperatedly when Oikawa only hummed weakly in response. “Why the hell did you say yes?”

“I don’t know!” Oikawa argued. “I just felt bad, I guess, _I don’t know_ ,” he sighed, rubbing at his face with both hands. “I know I shouldn’t have but before I could shut him down he practically begged me to take his car. I told him I wouldn’t take it like that, you know that wouldn’t be fair,” Oikawa explained.

“You know what else isn’t fair?” Kuroo snapped. “Him calling you to ask for a fucking _favour_ after everything we’ve lost because of him. Did you think about that?”

“Of course I did!” Oikawa yelled back. “I’m not stupid, I _know_ we’ve lost a lot because of him. But do you really think he did what he did to us on purpose? I don’t know, Kuroo, we got lucky that we were never involved with gangs, but it’s not the same for everyone else and you _know_ that. He seemed serious, like he was looking for a way out, and I’m not going to kick him while he’s already down,” Oikawa said firmly.

Kuroo pursed his lips, the silence hanging around them only adding to the tension in the air. Oikawa gripped his hands into fists, knowing that Kuroo was angry with him and that he had every right to be. But there was a part of him that also hoped that Kuroo would try and see the situation the way Oikawa did.

“Fine,” he agreed. “Fucking _fine_ ,” he sighed, jerking to a stop at a stoplight, thumping a fist against the wheel heavily. “At least tell me he doesn’t want to stay for long.”

“He said one week, max,” Oikawa shrugged. They both knew that was a lie.

“If he does anything, and I mean _anything_ that screams suspicious, I won’t hold back,” Kuroo promised. “And if you try and defend him after that, I _will_ kill him so you had better be ready for a homicide on your hands,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You don’t have to worry,” Oikawa said quietly. “Because if he does anything suspicious, I promise I’ll get to him before you do.”

He wanted Kuroo to know that this wasn’t just his emotions talking. Or maybe a part of it was, but he _had_ thought about it. That’s why he wasn’t going to take Semi’s handouts like they were something he could take back at any time. Oikawa didn’t need, nor did he want, anything from the other man and if he was coming to Oikawa for help, then there would be a price to pay.

“He said he’d pay us back for the fines we were hit with. I’m going to be honest, I don’t really believe him, but whatever. Win his car off of him so he doesn’t think this is some favour. I don’t need him thinking he can come to me for whatever he needs whenever he wants,” he scowled.

“Alright, alright,” Kuroo sighed, pulling into the empty four storey parking garage. Oikawa knew they were there before he even saw the array of bright cars filling up the empty concrete building; the loud music and vivid lights around them were enough of a telltale.

“The things I do for you,” he muttered not so quietly.

Oikawa blinked up at his friend, expecting a scowl on his face but was surprised to see a small smile instead. He smiled back, happy and sincere. It was nice feeling, knowing that someone always had your back.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly.

“Yeah, I know,” Kuroo agreed, shoving Oikawa’s shoulder affectionately. “Now come on, we’ve got a crowd to show up and a race to win,” he grinned, pulling open the door handle and stepping out.

Oikawa grinned, mimicking the action. The moment people recognized their faces, it was like they hadn’t been away from the racing scene at all. Within moments there was a large crowd surrounding Kuroo’s car, all asking questions about what had happened, whether they were _really_ running a drug business, how their trials had gone.

Kuroo was laughing it off, doing his best to deter all the questions, Tsukishima at his side looking less than pleased with the attention. To an outsider, it looked like he was jealous even though he had no reason to be with Kuroo’s arm fit snugly around his waist indicated that they were both clearly taken.

But Oikawa knew that Tsukki was just pissed about the sudden interest in their lives when there hadn’t been any while they were under suspicion.

Oikawa didn’t blame anyone from staying away while the police investigations were taking place, though. Everyone had their own necks to watch out for around here, and it was nice enough to just know that he was missed, that _they_ were still missed.

It had been so long since Oikawa first got into street racing and back then, people had thought he was crazy, a _fake_ for jumping down from the professional leagues into the night life. They had been wary at first and wanted to stay away from him – they _had_ stayed away from him for a long time until someone was willing to give Oikawa a chance to show what he was made of.

When he and Kuroo decided against jeopardizing their friends by giving up street racing during the trials, Oikawa had been reminded of the early days where people didn’t like him. He had been worried that things would go back to the way they were. He had worked so damn _hard_ to build up his reputation and with the garage’s future in shambles, Oikawa wasn’t sure what he would have done if he didn’t at least have his pride in racing.

With the way people were hanging off of him, coming over to hug him, kiss him, just _talk to_ him, he realized he didn’t have anything to worry about. The reputation he had built out here was one that came with a lot of respect, and it would take more than a few police accusations for that to go away.

It was nice and familiar – the atmosphere just as inviting as it always was. Someone had hooked up speakers to a car jack, a deep bass echoing off the walls, running through the concrete in the building, and spreading through their bodies from the soles of their feet. There were pretty girls, well-dressed guys, and enough cars to make anyone’s eyes pop at the sight. Best of all, it smelled like _cars_ , the kind of smell Oikawa had grown up on – had become addicted to in the past twenty-five years.

“Tooru!”

A familiar voice cut through the conversation around him. He hadn’t really been paying attention until he heard his name being called. He craned his neck over the gathering of girls that had come to talk to him for the source of the voice.

His face broke out into a grin when he noticed who it was that was calling out to him. “Sorry, ladies,” he apologized, pushing himself away from the group with an apologetic smile. “I’ve got some business to take care of but we’ll talk later,” he promised.

There was some murmur of disappointment but the crowd around them disappeared within moments.

“Hi Suga,” Oikawa smiled, leaning in to place a quick kiss to the man’s cheek.

“You’ve got some nerve coming back without even letting me know first,” Suga pouted throwing his arms around Oikawa’s shoulder and pulling him in for a tight hug. “But, I did miss you, you idiot.”

He placed a kiss of his own on Oikawa’s cheek, but yelped when Oikawa tapped his ass lightly during the process. “Cheeky bastard!” he chastised pulling away.

“Sorry, sorry!” Oikawa chuckled, throwing his hands up in defense.

It was too easy to tease Suga, especially when he was wearing his cute grey cotton shorts that came up too far up his thigh to hide much and a long-sleeved black crop top showing off his toned stomach. Suga narrowed his eyes but his face broke out into another grin only moments later.

“Hi Suga,” Kuroo greeted with a laugh, pulling Suga in for a quick one-armed hug. “I’m glad to see some things never change,” he added teasingly.

“Hi Kuroo, Tsukishima,” he smiled, returning the gesture for the both of them. “I had to find out from Semi that you were coming tonight,” he said dejectedly, turning his attention back to Oikawa. “Speaking of, he’s waiting for you on the fourth floor.”

“I guess that’s my cue,” Kuroo smiled wryly, pressing a quick kiss to Tsukishima’s cheek.

He tried to remove the arm that he had draped casually over Tsukishima’s shoulder, their fingers intertwined, but the blonde tightened the hold he had on the hand that was clasped in his. “You never said you were racing tonight,” Tsukishima frowned. “I thought we were here just to watch,” he reminded, face squirming in displeasure at the mention of _Semi_.

Oikawa felt the guilt seep in. It wasn’t just Kuroo who was affected by what had happened in the past few months but Tsukishima as well considering their lives were so intertwined; Oikawa knew he should have told the other man before roping Kuroo into it. “That’s my bad,” he said immediately, trying to mediate as best as he could.

“I’ll tell you later, promise,” Kuroo placated, knowing that starting a scene now wasn’t going to do any of them favours.

No one really knew that Semi was involved, and they were going to keep it that way, if only to avoid a re-opening of the case. At least for now.

Tsukishima hummed something unintelligible before sliding Kuroo’s hand off his shoulder himself. He tossed the keys to his car to Oikawa who caught them easily with one hand before leading Kuroo back into his M5.

“Where are you going?” Oikawa tilted his head questioningly.

“Luck,” Tsukishima shrugged in explanation, the hint of pink around the shell of his ears giving away his embarrassment.

“That’s my babe,” Kuroo whooped, opening the passenger door for Tsukishima to get in before moving around to the other side. “You’re going to be running this one?” he asked Suga, who nodded his confirmation. “Sweet, I’ll see you two up there in a few,” he promised, kicking the car into second gear and making his way to the car elevator that would take him to the fourth floor.

Oikawa chuckled, knowing that a _few_ was an understatement, if the way Tsukishima had said ‘luck’ was anything to go by.

“I have some friends coming tonight by the way,” Suga said offhandedly. “If I introduce you, play nice alright?” he raised an eyebrow.

“I always play nice, Suga-chan,” Oikawa smiled sweetly. “Tell me the easiest bets to win,” Oikawa asked, changing the subject easily. He swung an arm over Suga’s shoulder, leading him to the elevators that were slowly filling up with people who wanted to watch the race between Semi and Kuroo.

“You know that’s cheating,” Suga said pointedly, but a few seconds later his face broke out into a sly grin. “Challenge Atsumu. He’s betting five-hundred thousand yen on Semi but you know, _daddy’s money_ , so no one’s willing to take him up on that offer. He thinks he’s going to win either way, but that’s because he didn’t think you were actually going to show tonight,” he informed smugly.

Oikawa laughed brightly at the information. “Miya, huh? I’ve always hated him and his stupid, bright orange Cayman. Next time he’s racing for a car, make sure it’s me he’s up against. I’d love to take that off his hands and tune it up, a better paint job included.”

“You know he’s never going to do that,” Suga reminded, trying to hide his amused smile.

“Well, one can only dream,” Oikawa chuckled. “I guess I’ll just have to settle with watching Semi get his ass handed to him.”

“Isn’t he your former student though?” Suga mused.

“That’s what makes it better,” Oikawa quipped.

Suga let out a happy little laugh, and Oikawa released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding in. He had half expected Suga to push the conversation, but he had to remind himself that most people really were unaware of what had happened to Oikawa and Kuroo in the past six and half months, and how Semi was involved.

He was thankful at least, that things were almost exactly how they were the last time he had been here. Despite Semi’s untimely call, Oikawa’s night was actually starting off pretty well. He could at least pretend that things were okay; if only for one night.

And Suga had mentioned something about friends; that sounded promising.

He had only been back for thirty minutes at best, but the six and half months he had spent away from the scene felt like they hadn’t existed at all in the eighteen hundred seconds since he had stepped foot into Ariake.

That’s what passion was though: once you found it, it never left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is a pattern with my fics nowadays - no real conversation between Iwaizumi and Oikawa till later. but I promise it's coming in the next chapter! 
> 
> next time:  
> \- Iwaizumi meets Oikawa  
> \- Tsukishima is unimpressed
> 
> leave me a comment or kudos to let me know what you thought! ♡


	3. gang up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _we stay down_  
>  _and came up, and came up_  
>  _we stay down_  
>  _we came up, the gang up_  
>  \-- **gang up** \- young thug, wiz khalifa, 2 chainz, pnb rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since it's [@ValhallasGoddess](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ValhallasGoddess)'s birthday and this fic is dedicated to her, have an extra chapter! everyone go wish Pinta a happy birthday on Tumblr [(@serviceace)](http://serviceace.tumblr.com/)!!
> 
> to Pinta: happy birthday you ho, i love you and i hope you enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it! thanks for always being a rant buddy, a thirst buddy, and just an overall buddy! i'm so glad to have met you and you give me the motivation to continue writing this fic every day *hugs and kisses* ♡

To an outsider, the difference in most of Tokyo’s wards was almost indecipherable. The borders between them were often hazy at best; one moment you were in an upscale neighbourhood, the next you were in the red light district.

Iwaizumi both loved and despised that about the city he had grown up in. It was so easy to immerse yourself in every part of town, lose yourself to the city life, no matter where it took you, but at the same time, the obscure borders also made it easy to get involved in something you had no business getting yourself into.

Chuo and Taito were two wards that always had that kind of relationship with one another, as did most of the other parts of the city. But Koto was something else entirely.

It was larger for one thing, spreading out across the southeast end of the prefecture. The seaside port made it a more industrial area than an office-building type of place. There weren’t too many nightclubs, large shopping districts or even perky cafés in sight.

Stepping foot into Koto-ku was like a breath of fresh air, quite literally, compared to the stuffy atmosphere of the heart of the city; even if the air was still a little polluted and now mixed with the smell of salt, diesel fuel and wet wood, it was cool and comforting, and _calm_.

Koto was old and new all at once; the docks were as busy as always, looking like something out of a painting with how consistent the sight was. But it _was_ different. There were newer boats, newer buildings, and new faces as well. Iwaizumi didn’t come to Koto-ku often, but he had always liked it here when he had. It was different from the rest of the city – integrated, but also its own entity, something Iwaizumi had wanted to be for a long time.

It kind of made him jealous in a way, if that was even possible. The longer he thought about it though, the stupider the thought sounded and usually, Iwaizumi found himself shoving the consideration away.

Tonight though, he let himself get tugged into Koto’s magnetic pull.

The atmosphere was already different, and Iwaizumi found that he liked it. Living in Chuo was great – it was a big change from having grown up in Ueno but that was only because the place he now called home was on the southern outskirts, as far away from the posh life of the inner city and as close to the Tokyo Bay as possible. But Iwaizumi couldn’t help but find himself thinking that he would probably like living in Koto more.

He might have changed locations – it wasn’t very far anyway – but he had a duty and an establishment in Chuo that he wasn’t sure he could give up, was _allowed_ to give it up.

Sometimes he thought that he had a choice, but in reality, he really didn’t. He may not have been bound to one group through an allegiance, but the only reason he even got out of Taito and made a name somewhat for himself was because Chuo wasn’t that far off. It was a mask at best, used to hide the darkest secrets under the pretence of a rich neighbourhood.

Having grown up in a poverty riddled district, Iwaizumi _knew_ what it was like to be under someone else’s control, and Chuo wasn’t very far off from that at the moment, even if it didn’t seem like it.

He tried to ignore all the warning bells that told him that sooner or later, his new home would end up like his old one. Maybe that’s why he was subconsciously thinking about moving, but moving was equivalent to running away at this point.

Kyoutani’s harsh accusations rang through Iwaizumi’s mind. He sighed, turning up the music in his car to drown out his own thoughts. If anything, the thoughts only started hammering against his skull louder, trying to get his attention. Or maybe that was the sound of the heavy rock thudding against his head from the car speakers combined with the upbeat pop that was thundering out of the parking garage in Ariake.

Iwaizumi had only been to this location a few times, none of which had been incredibly memorable for him but it was a large building, abandoned and far enough that no one really came out this way unless they had business. And the only business that went around during these parts of the night was the kind that you attended only by invitation.

He pulled over to the side, letting Daichi drive ahead of him before falling back into line. Kyoutani and Bokuto were right behind him, Bokuto claiming that he didn’t really feel well enough to drive so he was shotgunning next to Kyoutani. It was a lie; if anything, Bokuto just didn’t want Kyoutani going off on his own, and everyone knew that but it was sort of amusing to see the younger man’s familiar frown deepen at the sight of Bokuto next to him, looking far too pleased with himself.

Iwaizumi caught sight of the two of them talking, or maybe bickering, through the rear view mirror and a ghost of a smile graced his lips.

They pulled up to the second floor, where Daichi and Iwaizumi parked their cars with the others that were already there, painting the empty grey canvas that was the walls of the parking garage. Kyoutani used the car elevator to take his up to the fourth floor where all the other racers were, while Iwaizumi and Daichi took a different elevator up once they had gotten out of their own cars.

“There’s a lot of people here,” Iwaizumi whistled, eyeing the cars appreciatively.

The first floor had been absolutely packed and the second wasn’t far off either. He wondered how crowded the fourth floor was going to be, but if the noise that reached down two storeys through thick concrete walls was anything to go by, there was definitely more than just a party going on up there.

It had been a while since Iwaizumi had been out like this. With all the trouble between the mercenary groups and the yakuza lately, he had been a little bit stressed, trying to maintain the image he had worked hard to create. Driving for work was fun, but racing was so much better. Iwaizumi didn’t have any plans to race against someone tonight, but just being around this kind of atmosphere again was making his blood pump with excitement. At this rate, he just might end up getting roped into something and Iwaizumi couldn’t say he was completely against the idea.

“There’s supposed to be a race tonight against some big names. It’s been a while since they showed up but I don’t know too much about it so don’t get your hopes up,” Daichi chuckled, pressing the button for the fourth floor; it used to glow but it didn’t anymore from the lack of maintenance.

Iwaizumi shrugged. It didn’t really matter who was racing. As long as they drove well, anything was worth watching. When the elevator opened to reveal the fourth floor, Iwaizumi knew that this match, whoever it was, was _definitely_ a good one. The shouting could be heard all the way from the second floor, but it was nothing compared to the actual scene.

There were large groups of people surrounding both of the cars at the starting line: one a dark grey BMW M5, and the other a yellow Lexus LFA with the hood painted black, and a thin black stripe around the outer edge. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but think that the Lexus kind of looked like Kyoutani’s hair and he had to suppress a laugh at the thought. Maybe he could tease Kyoutani with the information later on.

He caught sight of a tall guy with styled and swept brown hair, black mask covering his face, speaking to the man in the M5. He looked familiar enough but Iwaizumi couldn’t quite place a name to the face, or what of the face he could even make out. He looked like he was giving the guy behind the wheel a serious talk, maybe some pointers or a run down but Iwaizumi was too far to hear anything. A few moments later, they bumped fists and the brunette pulled away and walked over to the ashen blonde man in the LFA.

It was odd to see someone give a pep talk to both participants, but maybe they were just friends competing for a bit of a thrill. Iwaizumi looked over at Daichi who led him to the crowd of people standing around the starting line.

“Money?”

“Nah,” Daichi shook his heads. “I think it’s for their cars,” he corrected. “Huh, didn’t know Kuroo would be racing tonight,” he mused to himself, jerking his head towards the BMW, where a man with messy black hair was behind the wheel.

Iwaizumi didn’t question him, attention catching on the name instead. “Tetsurou? Wasn’t he part of some police investigations recently?” Iwaizumi frowned.

“Yeah,” Daichi confirmed. “Although I don’t know the details. I guess he’s been released or else he wouldn’t be here,” he said more to himself than Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi didn’t ask him how he knew so much. He liked to pride himself in knowing what went on in Chuo and Taito, but Koto was out of his jurisdiction. Still, it was strange that Daichi knew something and Iwaizumi didn’t.

The revving of engines broke Iwaizumi away from his own thoughts. He peered out over the crowd of people in front of him and noticed another guy with a pretty face and silver hair walk out in between the two cars. The noise dimmed down a bit as he stepped in between the cars, taking his place as the starter.

“I want a clean race, you hear me?” he shouted. There was another loud revving from both cars, a clear sign of acceptance to the terms. “You ready boys?” he shouted. The revving only increased and that just fuelled the crowd’s enthusiasm. Hands were thrown up in the air, bodies pushed together tightly in an attempt to see the start. “And what about everyone else?” the silver-haired man yelled.

There was a lot more screaming, right in Iwaizumi’s ear. Under any other circumstance, he might have been annoyed at going half-deaf, but for some reason, he couldn’t help but grin at the sound, the excitement pulling him into its midst.

“Then GO!” he shouted, bending both his arms down in sync with the upper half of his body.

The drivers didn’t need to be told twice, and in less than a millisecond they were speeding off, cars screeching against the ground, engines thundering loudly.

The crowd of people around him dispersed immediately, Daichi included. He said something Iwaizumi couldn’t quite hear over the noise, before taking off. Not that Iwaizumi was really paying attention anyway. He was too focused on the cars in front of him, drifting through tight corners like they were made for it.

The guy in the dark grey BMW, Kuroo as Iwaizumi noticed from the mop of black hair on his head after Daichi had thrown his name out, cut a little too close to the wall and Iwaizumi was certain he was going to destroy his spoiler until he didn’t, clearing the turn like there was never any doubt that he would. He maintained his lead, and the man in the LFA cleared the turn cleanly as well, just a bit behind Kuroo.

Even though most of the crowd had rushed down to the third floor to see the race continue, the noise on the upper level remained. In fact, Iwaizumi was pretty certain that it was louder than before if that was even possible. Quite a few people had moved towards the left wall that had large empty spaces cut into it – a makeshift ledge from where they could peer down below.

Daichi was nowhere in sight, but Iwaizumi caught a glimpse of Kyoutani and Bokuto, both of whom who had easy to spot hair, thankfully, leaning over the ledge and watching intently. He smiled, thankful that he wasn’t the only one feeling thrilled. There wasn’t much empty room next to the two, so Iwaizumi found another spot to watch the race unfold from above.

Bokuto was shoving Kyoutani’s shoulder, shouting something in his ear with a smile on his face, and Iwaizumi felt his shoulders relax, the unknowing guilt of seeing his friends fight earlier dispersing with the scene unfolding before him. He had no doubt that Bokuto had forgiven Kyoutani – he wasn’t the kind of guy who held a grudge anyway – but seeing Kyoutani shout back, just as much excitement written all over his face, calmed Iwaizumi in a way he didn’t know he needed.

“If something happens to him, I’m going to kill you,” came an annoyed voice from next to him.

For a moment, Iwaizumi thought that the person was speaking to him, then he noticed that the guy who had said those words in the first place was leaning against the ledge, arms folded against it but his head was turned to his right to speak to another man. Iwaizumi recognized the other guy as the one who had been talking to both participants before the race started.

While the blonde’s head was turned away from Iwaizumi, the other guy, the one still wearing his black face mask, which Iwaizumi now noticed had small white crowns on it – he couldn’t tell if that was cute or gaudy – had his head cocked to the left, eyes perfectly aligned with Iwaizumi who had turned around towards the duo at the sound of their conversation.

“Don’t worry, Tetsu can handle himself. Have some faith,” the guy replied coolly, bright brown eyes staring right into Iwaizumi’s own dark green ones.

Iwaizumi didn’t know why, but he felt like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been. He flushed, just as the tall blonde next to him turned around, at the sight of the other guy looking past his shoulder instead of at him. He narrowed his eyes at Iwaizumi, the piercing brown-gold irises slicing through him like a knife.

Iwaizumi felt like he was being analyzed and when he jerked his eyes to the other man, who looked like he was smiling behind his mask, he found no help. The intense brown eyes staring at him from the other side were just as calculating as the other guy's. It didn’t help that both of these guys were unfairly tall, their height working to their advantage.

“Sorry,” he apologized gruffly, unsure what he was even apologizing for considering he hadn’t actually done anything wrong.

He saw the taller of the two tense a little, but turned back around only moments later, ignoring Iwaizumi’s presence entirely. Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if he should have been grateful for the ignorance, or offended that the guy didn’t think he was worth it, whatever _it_ was. The man with the piercing brown eyes however cocked his head thoughtfully at Iwaizumi for a few more seconds before smirking behind his mask, this time the action obvious. Moments later, he turned away as well, eyes focused on the floors below him.

“They’re coming back up, Tetsu’s still in the lead,” he mentioned offhandedly.

Iwaizumi felt the obvious dismissal, and for some reason, he found irritation seeping into his features. He scowled, but moved away, fighting the voice in his head that told him to just stand there stubbornly instead of leaving like these two guys obviously wanted him to. Who the fuck did they think were, anyway?

But this wasn’t Iwaizumi’s turf – he wasn’t sure if this was even theirs, but the way they were talking about Kuroo so familiarly, Iwaizumi could only guess that they knew one another so by default, they had more of a presence here than he had. The last thing he wanted to do was start an unnecessary fight on a night that was supposed to _relieve_ tension, not add more to his plate.

“Who was that?” he heard the blonde ask as Iwaizumi walked off towards the starting line where the racers were due to arrive soon.

He thought he heard the other guy respond, but he was too far away by that point to really catch anything. Not that it mattered, when his attention was caught by the Kyoutani waving him over. Bokuto easily slipped away from the two of them once Iwaizumi arrived. If Kyoutani noticed that he was being babysat, he didn’t say anything.

The large grin on his face indicated that something good had happened, and in a matter of seconds, Iwaizumi had forgotten that little encounter with the two tall strangers.

“Guess who has a race later tonight,” Kyoutani grinned proudly.

“Yeah? With who?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I don’t know, someone Daichi set me up with. His friend’s the guy who organizes all the races, and he said he’d hook me up,” Kyoutani explained.

“That’s cool,” Iwaizumi nodded. “Don’t lose,” he added, ruffling Kyoutani's hair affectionately.

Kyoutani grumbled something about not being a kid, before saying, “Of course I won’t. Gotta show all these Koto fuckers what we’re made of, yanno?” he said gruffly.

There were a few dirty looks thrown at Kyoutani from people nearby who had overheard him. “Don’t fucking say that out loud,” Iwaizumi chided. Kyoutani opened his mouth to protest but Iwaizumi beat him to it. “You can think it all you want, just don’t say it, dumbass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kyoutani rolled his eyes, accepting the criticism.

Iwaizumi almost didn’t believe this was the same guy who had been ready to drag Kenji out of the yakuza’s hold by himself a few hours ago with how levelheaded he was being now; or at least, as levelheaded as Kyoutani was ever going to get.

The crowd had come back up, bringing the noise along with it. The music playing in the background had been turned up even higher, drowning out anything else that Kyoutani might have said. The younger man grinned at Iwaizumi, jerking his head in the direction of the starting line where the two racers were pulling up. Iwaizumi was unsurprised to see that it was Kuroo in the lead, but the guy behind him had put up a good fight.

The onlookers surrounded their cars, slamming their fists against the hoods to make noise for the winner. The other guy had come in at a close second, which was no easy feat if the rumours about Kuroo were true. After seeing Kuroo race for himself, Iwaizumi could believe the things he had heard about the other man.

“Damn, I was rooting for the other guy,” Kyoutani muttered.

“I hope you didn’t place any bets,” Iwaizumi smiled, finding himself moving forward with the crowd around him.

“Nah, I’m not an idiot. Kuroo’s pretty good and I don’t think being away from the scene for half a year was going to make any difference,” Kyoutani nodded. “Although Semi’s decent too, but he’s also been missing for about the same time,” he mused.

Iwaizumi had heard Semi’s name thrown around a lot, especially as of late. There were never very good things said about him but the few times Iwaizumi had interacted with Semi, there wasn’t really much for him to go off of. He was a decent guy, caught up in the wrong side of town, which made Iwaizumi realize that corruption was everywhere, even if Koto didn’t have the big gangs terrorizing them yet.

“I’m surprised Oikawa didn’t race Semi though. You know, battle of the student versus the master,” Kyoutani mused.

“What?” Iwaizumi asked dumbly. He had been nodding along to Kyoutani’s ramble about Semi and whatever it was that he had to say about him, not really paying attention to the conversation until that. In his defense, it was hard to really hear over the loud shouting around him.

Even though the race had been over for a few minutes now, the crowd was as loud as ever, yelling a mix of both Kuroo and Semi’s names. Kuroo didn’t seem too interested in everyone around him, giving them the mandatory smile, but his attention was focused on the blonde with the glasses who Iwaizumi could now see that Kuroo had his arm around and the other guy, the one with the black mask that he had pulled down now to reveal his face.

He looked oddly familiar, and not just because he had stared at Iwaizumi like he was sizing him up a few minutes ago.

“You know, _Oikawa Tooru_ ,” Kyoutani repeated, emphasizing the name like it would help Iwaizumi with the question. He knew who Oikawa was dammit – or well, he had heard of him, just as much as anyone else had. It was kind of hard to live in Tokyo and not know his name.

“He taught Semi?” Iwaizumi tilted his head, watching the man get out of his LFA and walk over to Kuroo who he promptly handed his keys over to.

There was a loud cheering at the action and Kuroo looked annoyed for a few moments, his lips pursed as he tightened his hold around the keys before his face split into a wide grin. Semi looked relieved at that, even more so when Kuroo patted him on the back and said something that Iwaizumi was too far from the scene to hear.

Kyoutani gave Iwaizumi a puzzled expression before nodding. “Yeah, I heard that Oikawa’s the one who taught him how to drift.”

“Who'd you hear that from? Your mechanic boyfriend?” Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, knowing just where or _who_ Kyoutani had probably heard this information.

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend,” Kyoutani growled. “But Yahaba, yeah,” he confirmed moving on expertly. “Probably why Oikawa was talking to Semi earlier though, giving him last minute pointers and stuff. Man, I can’t imagine having to watch your student and your best friend race. If it was me and Daichi, who would you root for?” Kyoutani asked, failing to sound flippant.

Iwaizumi snorted at the question. “And who are you? The best friend or the student?”

“The stu– hold on, _am_ _I_ your best friend?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Not a chance,” Iwaizumi smiled, flicking Kyoutani’s forehead. “Oikawa, huh? I heard he also got into some trouble with the cops lately,” Iwaizumi hummed.

Looking back at the brunette, who Iwaizumi now knew was Oikawa, he couldn’t figure out why his brain thought he had seen him before. Maybe it was because he heard the name thrown around a lot. Oikawa Tooru was a pretty famous guy; the professional – or almost professional – who had dropped out the big leagues to live a different life.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t his fault,” Kyoutani defended. “I heard he and Kuroo were framed. Or maybe not _framed_ , but unknowingly got caught up in something that they had no idea they were even in until the cops showed up at their door. They’re supposedly free of the investigations now but are dealing with some pretty heavy financial burdens.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow questioningly. “And how do you know so much? Are you a secret fan of his? Or maybe a stalker?”

He chuckled at the way Kyoutani’s face flushed a deep crimson. He shook his head quickly, throwing his hands up and chanting _‘no, no, no’_ in quick succession, which only made Iwaizumi laugh harder. “Yahaba?” he asked, cutting his friend a break.

“Yeah,” Kyoutani agreed. “You know, he was also Oikawa’s student. Apprenticed with him at the same time as Semi,” he explained.

“He sure tells you a lot, for someone who isn’t your boyfriend, or your _friend_ either, from what you’ve said,” Iwaizumi teased. He had no doubt that there was _something_ going on between Kyoutani and the mechanic, not that he cared. As far as Iwaizumi could tell though, Yahaba wasn’t trouble. Pretty though, which usually spelled trouble around their kind of people but somehow, Yahaba seemed like an alright guy.

Oikawa on the other hand, screamed dangerous along with his pretty face, which Iwaizumi could see clearly now that the mask wasn’t hiding his slightly upturned nose, thin pink lips, and most of his face, high cheekbones included. His piercing eyes had been enough to send a chill down Iwaizumi’s spine, as he recalled from not too long ago. He looked like the kind of guy who had a lot to him than met the eyes, which was a scary thought in itself because Oikawa's calculating eyes had been menacing enough.

So maybe he did deserve his reputation for being a charmer and ruthless all with one carefully placed smile.

“Oh, what the _fuck_?” Kyoutani yelled, breaking Iwaizumi away from his thoughts. He didn’t realize that he had been staring right at Oikawa all that time, until his eyes refocused and he turned his gaze back around to Kyoutani who was next to him.

“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing’s wrong, except the fact that Daichi fucking _knows_ him and he’s never said anything!” Kyoutani complained.

Iwaizumi didn’t even have to ask who it was that Daichi knew. His eyes focused on Kyoutani’s line of sight. For a moment, he was surprised to see himself staring right back at Oikawa, then he slid his eyes over and saw Daichi talking to the devil himself, the silver-haired guy who Iwaizumi could only assume was Daichi’s _friend_ that had invited them out here in the first place hanging off his shoulder.

“So you really are his fan,” Iwaizumi laughed, much to Kyoutani’s chagrin.

He couldn’t understand why he found himself annoyed with the thought that he and Kyoutani were standing off to the side while Daichi was conversing with Oikawa and his group of friends. But the feeling of irritation didn’t last for long because as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Daichi turned around, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on Kyoutani and Iwaizumi who he promptly waved over.

“Looks like you’ll get to meet your idol after all,” Iwaizumi teased. “Come on,” he nudged Kyoutani in the direction of Daichi.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi greeted, bumping fists with Daichi. He nodded at the man next to him, who upon closer inspection was the same guy who had been the one to call the race between Kuroo and Semi.

“These are the guys I was telling you about, Iwaizumi and Kyoutani. Bokuto’s around here somewhere as well,” Daichi said nodding his head at the two of them as he introduced Iwaizumi and Kyoutani to the crowd.

“Daichi says a lot of nice things about you. I’m Suga,” the silver-haired guy beamed. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but be taken aback by how dazzling his smile was.

But it was still nothing compared to the way Oikawa quirked his lips up in a sort of calculating, sort of amused smile. “Suga-chan, why didn’t you tell me you had so many yakuza friends?” he asked casually, eyeing the black eye on Kyoutani’s face with contempt.

The way he said it made it sound like a genuine question, but from the fire in his eyes, Iwaizumi knew he was less than impressed. _That_ pissed Iwaizumi off.

“We’re not yakuza,” Kyoutani growled before Iwaizumi had the chance to retort.

“Mercenaries, hit-men, muscle for hire,” he waved dismissively. “Or whatever else they’re calling it nowadays. Same thing though, isn’t it?” he asked sweetly.

Iwaizumi could feel Kyoutani tensing beside him. Daichi had an uncomfortable look on his face, caught between anger and distress. If it had been any other day, none of the accusations would have mattered but today was already a bad day for them and Oikawa was just pushing his luck. He either hadn’t noticed the tension, or he didn’t care.

Thankfully, or maybe not, he changed the subject, eyes zeroing in on Iwaizumi who felt like a criminal in a trial room, instead. “You’re lucky Tetsu’s not a jealous guy,” he said flippantly.

“What?” Iwaizumi asked dumbly for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“You know, I did see you staring at Tsukki,” Oikawa smiled, jerking his head to the side where Kuroo was busy talking to a few others, the blonde who Iwaizumi could only assume was Tsukki at his side. “Or maybe you were staring at me,” he said pensively, eyes twinkling with some kind of teasing drive.

Iwaizumi felt his face flush, which he couldn’t help but anger at. He hadn’t been _staring_. Sure, Oikawa had a lot that Iwaizumi might _like_ to stare at but he had just been side tracked with his own thoughts and didn’t realize what he was doing until he had unintentionally eavesdropped on a conversation that wasn’t his.

But he shouldn’t have to – _didn’t have to_ – defend himself because he didn’t do anything wrong. Luckily, Iwaizumi was saved the trouble of having to explain himself.

“Who was staring at Tsukki?” came a new voice.

“ _Kuroo_ ,” Tsukki said in a warning tone.

Iwaizumi jerked his head at the sound only to come face to neck with Kuroo. Fuck these tall bastards.

“Relax, I’m joking,” he added when Iwaizumi’s eyebrows furrowed. “Tooru likes to tease people, especially when they make it so easy for him. Don’t be afraid to hit him back,” Kuroo said, sliding into the group, nudging Oikawa over so that he could lean against the hood of the car next to him.

Tsukki was close behind, his fingers now laced through Kuroo’s. He didn’t look very pleased with the setting, or maybe he just didn’t look pleased with Iwaizumi, considering he had shot Iwaizumi that very same disgruntled look back when he had first accidentally found himself standing next to Tsukki.

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but notice that the three of them looked sort of like they belonged on the cover of a car magazine. Oikawa with his hands tucked into the pocket of his bomber jacket, long legs folded over one another as he casually leaned against the hood of Kuroo’s BMW. Tsukki and Kuroo looking not too far off next to him, the blonde in his black jeans and black gradient patterned plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows; Kuroo wearing a black hoodie with a brown letterman buttoned on top, dark wash jeans cuffed at the bottom and a pair of white Converse.

Tokyo was pretty well known for its fashion, and these three looked like they belonged right there in the nightlife. It made Iwaizumi feel oddly out of place around them, wearing his khaki joggers, plain black t-shirt and black sneakers.

It was just the new environment that was intimidating him though, and certainly not Oikawa’s dangerous eyes boring holes straight through him.

“Tetsu, you’re supposed to defend me, not sell me out,” Oikawa complained.

Kuroo laughed loudly and Iwaizumi felt his shoulders relax at the carefree sound. He didn’t know why these people had intimidated him – maybe because he wasn’t used to the crowd, or maybe because they were unknown entities. Iwaizumi didn’t like not being in control, and on turf that wasn’t his own, he felt completely out of place.

Oikawa had relaxed a bit with Kuroo’s addition, and somehow, the conversation had eased up into a friendly calm, until Oikawa turned his attention to Kyoutani.

“I heard you’re racing tonight,” he said casually.

“Yeah,” Kyoutani answered stiffly. Iwaizumi could tell that the yakuza comment from earlier had gotten to him if the way his fists were still balled was anything to go by.

“Who’re you up against?” Oikawa continued conversationally.

Kyoutani shrugged unknowingly. “He’s racing Lev,” Suga supplied.

“Ooh, easy money,” Oikawa smiled. Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if he meant easy money for him depending on who he was betting on or easy money for Kyoutani. “You any good?” he asked as an afterthought.

“Yeah,” Kyoutani agreed instantly.

“Confident,” Oikawa mused to himself. “What do you ride?”

“GNX with a custom crankshaft,” Kyoutani said proudly.

Oikawa cracked a smile. “Lev’s got a Lancer Evo but between you and I, he doesn’t really know how to drive it properly. If you want to really piss him off, let him get ahead of you in the first three levels, then kick it up into gear on the very last turn. He’ll probably try to overpower you but end up destroying his doors. Easy money.” His smile widened when Kyoutani’s eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but think it was endearing as hell, even if Oikawa was a dick.

“You sure about that?” Kyoutani asked skeptically.

“Of course,” Oikawa responded confidently. “Come on, I’ll show you,” he jerked his head to the side. Kyoutani perked up and followed as Oikawa left.

“Come watch my race!” Kyoutani yelled as an afterthought.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be here to watch you lose,” Daichi shouted back, which earned him a middle finger from Kyoutani and few choice curse words.

Iwaizumi laughed, and he was surprised to see that Kuroo was laughing as well, Suga and Tsukki, which he assumed was just a nickname, trying to hide their amusement behind poorly concealed hands.

“Sorry about Tooru,” Suga apologized when Oikawa and Kyoutani were no longer in sight. “He can be an asshole but he means well,” he defended.

“It’s fine,” Iwaizumi waved off, surprised that he meant it considering what Oikawa had accused them of. “He’s pretty good with people, huh?” he asked, amused at the fact that Kyoutani had gone from worshipping him to hating him in a matter of second to worshipping him again like the dislike had never been there at all.

“Yeah,” Kuroo agreed. “He’s a charmer alright,” he laughed. “But don’t take anything he says seriously. He’s probably just looking for a fight today – you know, being cooped up in a garage for six months with only Tsukki and I for company can do that to a guy.”

His tone was light, but Iwaizumi didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that Kuroo was defending Oikawa, and wouldn’t take anyone trashing him lightly. Iwaizumi nodded; he didn’t have any intentions of shitting on Oikawa anyway. He may have pissed Iwaizumi off with his attitude, but he had earned some of his respect with the way he handled Kyoutani just a few moments ago.

“Iwaizumi, huh?” Kuroo asked, tone considerably friendlier now that he had assessed Iwaizumi’s intentions. “I hear you’re a pretty good driver yourself.”

“I guess,” Iwaizumi shrugged, cheeks flushing at the praise.

He figured that if he had heard of people outside his wards, they must have heard of him as well, but actually having this kind of information revealed to his face was a little bit embarrassing and daunting, if he was being honest with himself. Iwaizumi had worked hard to build up the reputation that he had now. It was nice to know that people outside of Chuo and Taito knew about him, but it was different when they weren’t the people he had to deal with every day.

“That’s an understatement,” Suga chirped, making Iwaizumi widen his eyes in surprise. “Daichi says you’re pretty good with your hands – can shift gears so fast it looks like you’re not even using your clutch and yet, you still maintain your engine in good shape.”

Iwaizumi flustered, but not as much as Daichi who was blushing to the tips of his ears. He looked at Kuroo sheepishly, the man giving him an amused sort of look.

“I’d like to see that,” he said thoughtfully after a few seconds. “You guys drift in Chuo?”

“Sometimes. There’s not much of a place for it, so it’s usually just smooth sailing across the freeway. But I haven’t really raced in a while,” he admitted.

“Because you’re too busy driving for jobs, right?” Tsukki asked curtly.

Iwaizumi was taken aback by the hostility in his voice. Sure, he had eavesdropped on the man, but it had been an _accident_. It wasn’t like he and Oikawa were having an awfully private conversation, anyway. Iwaizumi couldn’t understand what he had done to piss him off, other than just _be there_ , which he supposed was also a valid reason.

People were quite possessive of their territory and their friends, and Iwaizumi knew this wasn’t his scene. Still, the coldness in Tsukki’s voice was something he wasn’t expecting.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Jobs.” It wasn’t like what he did was a big secret anyway.

Tsukki opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it just as quickly. Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if he should have been annoyed, or counting his lucky stars at that point.

“I see Kyoutani’s car,” Daichi craned his neck over the group, changing the subject.

Sure enough, Kyoutani’s black Buick GNX was coming up the ramp connecting the third floor of the garage to the fourth. He made a sharp turn, speeding right at them. For a moment, Iwaizumi thought that he had just lost control; then he caught sight of who was actually driving and suddenly, his expression hardened. Dealing with Tsukki was annoying enough but dealing with him and Oikawa together… it made his blood boil.

Iwaizumi was standing the closest to the oncoming car, and maybe he should have been at least a little bit frightened by the speed, but something about Oikawa brought out the competitive side in him, so he stood his ground, not backing off one bit.

“Iwaizumi,” Daichi warned. Iwaizumi ignored him, folded his arms over his chest and waited for Oikawa to no doubt swerve away at the very last second.

It was exactly what he did, tires screeching, smoke withering up slowly. Oikawa looked pleased with himself, even more pleased when he looked out the window and saw Iwaizumi’s annoyed expression. Kyoutani got out of the passenger side, banging his fist against the doorframe.

“You look so fucking _pissed_ ,” he laughed. Iwaizumi’s scowl deepened.

“You’re going to look real pissed tonight too, when you’re sleeping outside,” Iwaizumi threatened. “Go get ready for your race,” he snapped.

Kyoutani grumbled something intangible but nodded, taking over the driver’s seat as Oikawa got out, heading off to the starting line.

“We should probably go too,” Suga said tugging Daichi. Daichi nodded and followed, Kuroo and Tsukki doing the same, which left Iwaizumi alone with Oikawa.

“Don’t teach him stupid things,” Iwaizumi growled at Oikawa.

Oikawa blinked back in surprise, the smile falling from his face instantly. “Relax, he’s not a kid,” Oikawa replied, the shock replaced by a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, well he’s as impressionable as one,” Iwaizumi argued back.

Maybe he was a little jealous, so sue him But he wasn’t sure why he was even arguing with Oikawa. It wasn’t like he was going to see him after tonight anyway. Maybe if they ended up running into one another like this; but it had taken years for Iwaizumi to actually meet him in the first place. Maybe it would take another few years before he saw the asshole again.

Oikawa was quiet for a while, and Iwaizumi started to think that the conversation was over. “Maybe if you don’t want him learning stupid things, you shouldn’t teach him how to be a gangster,” Oikawa spat venomously.

Before Iwaizumi could retort, Oikawa had turned around and stalked off in the direction of the starting line, hands balled into fists at his side.

Where the fuck had _that_ come from?

Was everyone in Koto this fucking aggressive, or did they just collectively decide to hate him? He couldn’t understand what he had done to them, but sometimes people didn’t need a _reason_ to hate. He could understand that, but being on the receiving end of the aggression was something that irked him more than just a little. Especially because Oikawa acted so fucking haughty about it, like he knew _everything_.

Well Iwaizumi had news for him: he didn’t know shit, _especially_ about Iwaizumi’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i described Oikawa's outfit a lot better in the last chapter but here are some pictures to make the visuals come to life i guess:  
> \- Oikawa's [outfit](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/04/fb/f1/04fbf1bdbf10db1f3f205712e84dd3fd.jpg)  
> \- Kuroo's [outfit](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/40/18/03/401803bd3dfb33d92ee1f83504356a40.jpg)  
> \- Tsukishima's [outfit](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/e3/25/63/e3256305ea4b498b424cec7964e398e0.jpg)  
> \- Iwaizumi's [outfit](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/31/84/a6/3184a60095e117577da0461b2ca8a13d.jpg)
> 
> next time:  
> \- throwback to a different time  
> \- lots of regrets for lots of different reasons (lol i wonder what this means ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)
> 
> leave me a comment and/or kudos please! ♡


	4. livin' in sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _love is a high, we feelin’ alive_  
>  _you lovin’ the size, 이 흐름을 타_ ******  
>  _i give you more, you feelin’ the flow_  
>  _you never let none of them bring down the vibe_  
>  _hustle to win, we be livin’ in sin_  
>  _makin’ us two of a kind_  
>  \-- **freal luv** \- far east movement x marshmello ft. chanyeol  & tinashe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ****** translation: ride this flow

_4 months ago_  

Dealing with lawyers was becoming exhausting, albeit necessary – but a full day trial was a nightmare of its own. Spending twelve hours in a courtroom was absolutely draining. The stress of having to _prove your innocence_ was starting to get to Oikawa – he had never expected to find himself sitting on a wooden stand, the stares of the beady-eyed jury and the tight-lipped judge ripping holes into the defense he had put up around him. 

The prosecutor’s smirk irritated Oikawa more than he liked to admit, but it was just a game. Everything was a mind game in that stuffy room that smelled like wood polish and new shoes. It wasn’t comforting in the least; it made his head hurt and his eyes water – or maybe that was the panic of sitting still, foot tapping against the tiled floor agitatedly for half the day. 

Every time Oikawa was called up to the stand, his eyes lingered on Kuroo's sitting to his left even though their lawyer had specifically told Oikawa not to do that – said something about it looking _suspicious_ – but Oikawa couldn’t help it. Kuroo had always been his beam of support and looking at him reminded Oikawa of all the things he loved: the smell of gasoline, the feel of the wind in his hair and on his face as he sped across the freeway, the touch of paint lacquer as it dried and hardened, the sound of engines revving and crowds shouting. 

There was only one person in the room who understood how Oikawa felt better than anyone else, and that one person was whom Oikawa wasn’t supposed to look to for stability. He couldn’t do it; he couldn’t help himself from gazing at Kuroo, who looked just as uncomfortable sitting in those hard wooden chairs that added to their uneasiness. His saving grace came in the form of Kuroo's lingering gaze on his own face when their roles were reversed, and Oikawa found himself not giving a shit if people found their actions to be _suspicious_. 

They must have looked dead by the end of the night because the officers let them go without so much as a police detail when the judge dismissed them. Tsukishima had been there the whole time – he had offered to drop Oikawa at his home in Shirakawa since he and Kuroo lived only two districts south of him, but Oikawa needed the space.

If he was being honest, he didn’t think he could talk to his friends after the shit he was putting them through. Accidentally, of course – but it was still his fault no matter what anyone said. Two months into the case, and right then, Oikawa didn’t think there was any way for them to come out of it _without_ going to jail. It hadn’t been looking good, and he had offered to take all the blame – _wanted_ to take all the blame – but Kuroo had firmly denied the request, going as far as to punch the sense into Oikawa the first time he brought it up.

That didn’t stop him from feeling like an asshole though. Taking more freebies from his friends, the ones he had unintentionally fucked over, didn’t seem like the right thing to do. He figured if he distanced himself from them, they’d maybe leave him alone, figure out that he wasn’t worth the trouble that always followed him around. If Oikawa was left to fend for himself, maybe he’d stop doing reckless things.

Kuroo had looked angry, like he was about to deck Oikawa for saying something stupid again, but Tsukishima had pulled him away, giving Oikawa the space that he craved, saying something about ‘giving him time.’ He said it quietly, in a voice that was meant to look like it was only for Kuroo's ears but Tsukishima had given Oikawa a knowing look right after, indicating that he understood where Oikawa was coming from but that they wouldn’t let him have his way forever.

Oikawa could appreciate the small gestures, even if they were temporary. He waited for Tsukki and Kuroo to depart before heading out himself, the growl of his stomach giving away the day’s suppressed hunger. He didn’t know where he was going but he couldn’t have been walking for more than thirty minutes in search of a restaurant when he found himself in the middle of downtown Chiyoda, staring up at the JP Tower.

There were suddenly too many people around him: salarymen in their ties and suits heading out with their colleagues to an izakaya after a day’s work; teenagers wearing bright leggings and graphic tees, talking loudly and excitedly amongst themselves; tourists looking lost or maybe they were mesmerized by the flashing lights and bright atmosphere of the heart of Tokyo; couples with their children, out for a day together, old men and women trying to get home from the hospital or the grocery store.

There were _too many people_ ; bumping into him, hurrying past him, speaking in his ear but not even _to_ him, and not one of them cared about Oikawa or who he was. It was that thought that relaxed him; no one cared here, no one _knew him_. He let himself be immersed in the crowd, moving along wherever the pull took him until he found himself heading into an Udon shop a few streets down.

It was packed and busy, but there was still room at the counter for him to sit at. With the way he was dressed for court in a crisp white collared shirt and black suit, top button still fastened securely in place, he didn’t look out of place. Not in a place like Chiyoda. Not at this time of the night.

It was still early, 8 pm being just the beginning for the onslaught of the Chiyoda-ku’s nightlife. It didn’t matter how he was dressed, or whether he was alone; hell it didn’t even matter if he was silent because no one asked any questions around here and that was the kind of place Oikawa needed to be in the most at the moment. It let him use the background noise as a cover for his own thoughts, which was going to cause him more problems than offer a solution, but Oikawa wouldn’t have been able to stop himself even if he wanted to at that point.

He had been planning on going home after that, taking the longest train route back to his apartment. But somewhere between his self-deprecating thoughts and bad mood, Oikawa had missed the transfer line and ended up in Chuo-ku.

It was only when he heard the buzzed excitement from a group of teenagers, high schoolers by the looks of it dressed up in clothes that were not at all fitting for a school night, did he jolt back to reality, the sound of the voice on the overheard stating the next station causing him to panic slightly.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know his way around Chuo, but more so the fact that he had let himself get chained down by his thoughts. Oikawa had been planning on getting off at the next stop and turning back around, before someone in the group of teenagers standing next to him called out to him.

“Hey, you look really familiar,” a boy with light brown hair and pierced ears, studded with small diamonds, said to him.

His tone of voice wasn’t rude, but the lack of sleep had Oikawa snorting at him anyway. “Do I?”

He didn’t think his looks were generic enough to pass for anyone else, and he might have been offended at another time but right then, he just wanted to go home and drink his problems away. It wouldn’t help him, he _knew_ that, but it was still so much easier to wake up and not be able to remember the night before.

“Yeah,” he agreed, eyes crinkling pensively. His friends around him were giving him weird stares. Oikawa figured the kid would leave him alone but then his eyes widened and he said, “Oh shit, you’re Oikawa Tooru, aren’t you?”

 _That_ caught him off guard. He wasn’t unheard of, sure, but in these parts of town he didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing to be recognized. Before he had the chance to politely excuse himself from the conversation, the boy was speaking again. “You’re a good driver,” he stated firmly.

“Excuse me?” Oikawa asked, taken aback by the statement.

The boy either hadn’t noticed his hesitancy or he didn’t care. He just nodded and continued. “I saw your race against that guy a few months ago. Uh, Tendou I think his name was. It was so cool the way you completely pummelled him. His car was a wreck, man that was fun to watch,” he laughed.

Oikawa quirked his lips up at that. That had been way more fun to _race_ than watch, especially considering how that was the night Semi and Tendou had broken up, and he had felt some sort of brotherly duty to do _something_ about it. “You like racing?” he asked despite himself. The kid kind of reminded him of his nephew, Takeru, with his confidence and directness.

“Yeah,” he agreed easily. “My sister lives in Aomi so I visit her sometimes. She’s pretty cool and likes to watch the races too so she lets me tag along with her when I’m there. Actually,” he said, leaning in, body resting against the metal pole he had been holding on to, “we’re going to watch a race tonight. Wanna come?” he jerked his head to his group of friends who looked completely appalled at the kid talking to an adult who could potentially ruin their plans.

“Sure,” Oikawa agreed instinctively at the mention of watching a race. “Why not?” he chuckled to himself.

It had been a while since he had gone out, anyway. With the investigations, it was difficult to try and get some time for himself. Besides, when else was he going to get an opportunity like this in the future? He had the freedom for one night from the police, and Oikawa wasn’t sure if there would be another night like this one for him, if the day’s trial was anything to go by.

Even if he was hanging out with a bunch of kids, and he looked completely out of place in his black suit, shiny shoes and white button up, gold watched fit snugly around his wrist, Oikawa figured _what the hell_?

He was out here, anyway. He might as well figure out how the rich kids in Chuo raced, and whether it was anything like Koto. He doubted they were as good, but he didn’t really have the balls to show his face in Koto-ku anymore, not while he could jeopardize the fun of the other racers just by _being there_.

“Awesome,” the kid agreed. “The next time I see my sister, I’m going to tell her I met Oikawa Tooru. She’s gonna be so jealous,” he chuckled.

Oikawa found himself mirroring the laugh, his heart lightening at the mere mention of racing and bothering an older sister. He knew what that was like, even though he hadn’t seen his sister in a while. Not since high school, which was around the age that the kid speaking to him seemed to be. Maybe the kid reminded Oikawa more of himself than Takeru; it caused a familiar pang to run through his chest but he quickly shooed it away, not ready to go down that path tonight.

“Next time you see me race, come say hi. I’ll introduce you to some of the other guys I know,” he promised, laughing louder at the way the teenager’s eyes widened.

The kid looked awestruck, the same kind of expression Oikawa figured he had worn when he was still young and got to meet some of his idols. He couldn’t imagine being in a role where someone looked up to him, though. He wanted to warn the kid, remind him that he probably wasn’t the best person to look up to, but who was he to deny someone their happiness?

Besides, it felt kind of nice to know that there were some people out there who still admired him, considering how he had been feeling lately.

Although Oikawa did feel bad about making that kind of promise. He _wanted_ to race again, he just wasn’t sure when the ‘next time’ was going to be, and he sincerely hoped that the kid who was looking at him like Oikawa had just given him a ten second car instead of a promise to meet people who probably weren’t everything the guy had made them out to be, wouldn’t be disappointed by the long wait.

“Damn, you’re even cooler in person,” he said bluntly.

Oikawa flushed slightly before he leaned over to ruffle the kid’s hair. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he smiled.

Once they got to the empty parking lot where the drivers had parked their car, the boy and his friends disappeared, not that Oikawa minded. They were good company for the train ride and the walk over, but Oikawa didn’t exactly fit in with the high school crew anymore. He didn’t want to either, his age not quite making it _questionable_ but a little bit _odd_ at any rate.

Chuo wasn’t known for their empty warehouses, unless it was the outskirts near the Tokyo Bay, so Oikawa was unsurprised to find no sign of an obvious route. They would more than likely be hitting the streets, the busy freeway already packed with cars even during the late evening hours.

Oikawa wasn’t sure where the fun in that really was, when you couldn’t see the race unfold before your very eyes unless you were participating in it, but there was a long stretch of road before the small street curved off towards the bigger roads, which Oikawa supposed was a good enough distance to determine how good the racers really were.

The black asphalt was damaged by potholes, now a greying colour rather than it’s shiny, new, effortlessly rough black; half the streetlights in the area had gone out a long time ago and were probably never going to get replaced. But the sight of cars, cigarette smoke, and good people gave it life.

Despite the familiar scene, most of the night was uneventful. It wasn’t _bad_ , but it certainly wasn’t what he was used to either. It was a good distraction but Oikawa was seriously contemplating going home; he’d had his fun for the night.

That was when Iwaizumi arrived, in his sleek, black Plymouth Road Runner, throwing the entire crowd into disarray.

At first, Oikawa wasn’t sure what was happening, then his eyes landed on the man behind the wheel, all hard lines and set jaw, green eyes reflecting against the headlights from the cars around them. He looked like he meant business, but then he got out of his car and smiled at the people who had come up to talk to him, and Oikawa felt like he was going to collapse from the sincerity in his face.

Or maybe that was the mix of liquor and beer that he had somehow managed to get his hands on in the two hours he had been there.

Something about Iwaizumi was captivating, not in a ‘too pretty to look away’ kind of way – although he _was_ hot – but his eyes were dark, and kind all at once. The kind of eyes that held a lot of secrets and for some reason, Oikawa found himself not being able to look away from them, even when Iwaizumi had no idea that he was staring.

He wasn’t the only one, if the shouts of ‘ _Holy shit, it’s Iwaizumi Hajime_ ,’ were anything to go by. Of course Oikawa had heard the name before, not all of them in a good context but right now, he was behind the wheel of his car, looking like he was going to put up a good fight against whoever the unlucky person that got to race him was, and the only thing that mattered to Oikawa was that he looked like he _belonged_ there.

Oikawa’s earlier desire to leave was squashed the moment Iwaizumi arrived – even more so when he learned that the stoic looking man was going to be racing. Iwaizumi’s car certainly implied that he was a good driver, and Oikawa wanted to know for himself.

He was, which Oikawa found out not much later. Iwaizumi drove hard and fast, cutting corners at the last minute, not all of them elegantly but they did the trick, blocking his competitor in his tracks. He didn’t just _drive_ a nice car, he fucking owned it. If Oikawa thought Iwaizumi was hot before, it was nothing compared to how he felt when he saw the man pull up from second place to first in a matter of seconds.

Somewhere between the finish line and fifteen meters away, Iwaizumi had turned the race around, so smoothly that it looked like the guy he was racing didn’t even know what hit him until Iwaizumi was extending his hand, the gesture a mix of appreciation and looking for some kind of payment.

Oikawa didn’t know what hit him, but the heat that was crawling up his neck had nothing to do with the alcohol in his system anymore. He had already undone the top button of his suit jacket and the top two buttons of his dress shirt, the collars frayed loosely around his collarbones.

But it wasn’t enough.

Watching Iwaizumi race was exhilarating; it made Oikawa want to know what it was like to be the one competing against him – to see how he drove throughout the whole track. His eyes landed on Iwaizumi once more as he busied himself with the drag of a cigarette sitting prettily between his lips and the attention of anyone lucky enough to be caught in his orbit.

“What’s it go at? 900 hp?” Oikawa asked casually, joining the crowd of people who had surrounded themselves around Iwaizumi.

It didn’t take long for Iwaizumi to find the source of the voice. “Yeah,” he agreed, somewhat nonchalantly, exhaling the smoke at Oikawa's face.

“Liar,” Oikawa smiled, folding his arms over his chest, ignoring the smell of burning tobacco in the air. It made him want to cough and fill his lungs at the same time.

Iwaizumi frowned, giving Oikawa a once over before dispersing the group around him. They left with a few poorly concealed complaints, and Oikawa did nothing to hide his smirk. Iwaizumi didn’t say anything else, but the way he was staring at Oikawa over the bridge of his nose indicated for Oikawa to continue.

“Let’s see, probably goes at 1300 hp _at least_ , with that 426 hemi twin turbo you’ve got hooked up to the engine,” he tapped his chin pensively. “Custom forged rods, forged pistons and probably a hell of a lot of other things I can’t tell without lifting the hood,” he grinned. “Those are some hefty modifications, which definitely don’t come cheap,” he added, stepping closer so they were face to face.

Oikawa found that the height advantage was nice; especially when Iwaizumi already looked like everything Oikawa would give anything up for if asked.

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows at Oikawa in surprise. “You like cars?” he asked, removing his hands from the pocket of his black joggers, standing up straighter, the backs of his legs hitting the hood of his car.

“Like them?” Oikawa laughed brightly, stepping into the already slight space between them. “Baby, I bring them to life,” he whispered breathily into the increasingly hazy air.

He pressed his hands against Iwaizumi’s shoulders just as Iwaizumi reached out and slipped his own hands into the pocket of Oikawa’s black slacks, tugging him in closer as his thighs hit the hood, back arching, Oikawa sliding in between his legs with a smug smile on his face.

“What’s your name?” Iwaizumi asked, gliding the palms of his hands against Oikawa’s thighs through the material of his slacks.

“Oikawa Tooru,” he answered easily, using the shock on Iwaizumi’s face as a distraction to run his hand over the man’s large biceps. Spring had barely started, and yet Iwaizumi was already wearing a tight t-shirt, showcasing his impressive muscles, and the beginnings of a tattoo, peaking out from below the sleeve of his left arm. It made Oikawa want to push the sleeve up, admire the ink underneath, but he consented to tracing over the material for the time being.

The look of surprise on Iwaizumi's face didn’t last long; it was quickly replaced by a smirk, which only grew when he noticed where Oikawa’s hands had found purchase. “Now what would the Grand King be doing in Chuo of all places?” he asked smugly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he shrugged off, heart beating faster at the fact that Iwaizumi knew who he was.

Koto’s racing scene was good enough for him but Oikawa was quite grateful with the turn of events; especially when Iwaizumi slid his right hand out of Oikawa’s pant pocket and placed it firmly on his hip, his thumb brushing along the bone teasingly.

“Wanna go for a ride?” Iwaizumi asked, voice low, tongue swiping over his bottom lip slowly, Oikawa’s eyes following the motion.

Oikawa shivered; Iwaizumi’s hands were over his clothes, _barely_ touching him, and yet his whole body felt like it was on fire. “Will you let me see what else you’ve got under the hood of your car?” he grinned, eyes twinkling dangerously.

“Why don’t you come with me and find out?” Iwaizumi answered, standing up straight. He maintained his hold on Oikawa’s hips, his front brushing against Oikawa’s coyly as he stood up, the proximity heightening the feeling.

It made Oikawa shiver again and this time, it was him who licked his lips as Iwaizumi watched the action, nodding before he could remind himself this was a bad idea, and that he really didn’t know much about Iwaizumi. Except all that mattered in the moment was that he had a nice car, a nice smile, and a fucking _nice_ body. He was also interested, and the idea of someone _wanting_ him was too appealing to pass up.

They ended up driving to the edge of the ward, an abandoned area with a couple of warehouses. Oikawa jokingly asked Iwaizumi if he was going to kill him, which resulted in Iwaizumi speeding across the edge of the river where the fence had broken off and never been replaced, tilting the car along the unfenced ledge that had the murky waters of the bay below.

Oikawa yelled half-heartedly, more out of excitement than actual fear, even though he was on the side closest to falling off the cliff. He trusted Iwaizumi’s skills though, and he figured that if the other man really wanted to kill him, he would have already done so.

True to his word, Iwaizumi let Oikawa dissect his car, and all the other ones in the garage where him and his team housed their vehicles. Oikawa was too busy fawning over the gear that he didn’t even notice that Iwaizumi had disappeared until he was back with too many six-packs of beer and a distressingly old, but very strong bottle of vodka that Oikawa made grabby hands at.

Iwaizumi laughed at him, tossing him a beer instead, chugging the bottle of vodka himself while Oikawa muttered curses not so silently under his breath, hoping that Iwaizumi would give in. He didn’t and Oikawa pouted, but the look was replaced when Iwaizumi offered to let Oikawa tune up his car, if only so that he had an excuse to press up behind him, slide his nose across the column of his throat, hands smoothing along his side in long, slow strides.

Somewhere between the heated kisses, wandering touches, glazed eyes and heavy breathing, the now empty bottles of alcohol discarded along the cold, metal flooring along with their clothes, Oikawa found himself being pressed down against the bed of a truck layered with a blanket to make it easier on his back. Iwaizumi hovered over him, their bodies flush against one another’s to the point where Oikawa couldn’t tell where his ended and Iwaizumi's began.

“You never asked me my name,” Iwaizumi whispered, warm breath fanning across Oikawa’s face as his hands rubbed along Oikawa’s spread open thighs.

“I know everything I already need to know about you, _Iwa-chan_ ,” Oikawa sighed dragging out the syllables in his name through the touch.

Iwaizumi chuckled at that, but didn’t ask him anything else. Not then, not for the rest of the night, and certainly not in the morning when he was still fast asleep as Oikawa gathered his clothes and left with a bad headache and dull pain in his ass, a little conflicted with himself for the night’s events but also not entirely displeased.  

* * *

Oikawa hadn’t thought that seeing Iwaizumi again would piss him off so much, but it had. One moment he was staring at Oikawa like he _didn’t_ know who he was, the next he was speaking to him like he really didn’t. Maybe Oikawa shouldn’t have been expecting realization to hit the other man square in the face right away, but he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t a tad bit disappointed that Iwaizumi’s eyes didn’t widen upon noticing Oikawa, or that he didn’t stutter or stumble in awkwardness.

At first, Oikawa had thought that it was because of the mask, after all, it didn’t really give much of a view of his face. But he had taken it off later, and after the match Oikawa had seen Iwaizumi staring at him from across the floor while he spoke to Kuroo, and Oikawa was _convinced_ that Iwaizumi finally realized who it was that he had casually sidled up to – albeit accidentally – during the race.

When Suga’s friend Daichi had called him over, Oikawa had been fully prepared to mock Iwaizumi into oblivion, but then the asshole had acted like nothing was out of place, which was when Oikawa realized that Iwaizumi actually _didn’t_ recognize him.

What the fuck was the fun in a one-night stand if the jerk you slept with didn’t even recognize you when you were both sober and awake? It wasn’t like Oikawa engaged in that kind of behaviour often – he really didn’t – but the one time he did and it didn’t even work out the way he had wanted it to.

Maybe it was him being vindictive, or maybe it was a blow to his ego to know that Iwaizumi didn’t even _remember him_ , but Oikawa was incredibly pissed off, which was the only reason he decided that startling the man, the way he had done to him a few months ago when he drove too close to the edge of the cliff near the bay, was a good idea in the first place.

Too bad Iwaizumi had stood his ground, which was actually kind of hot if Oikawa was being honest with himself. Although he had also looked pissed, which Kyoutani had proudly announced for everyone in the vicinity to hear, and that was enough to put a smug smile on Oikawa’s face.

But then Iwaizumi had gone and tried to _lecture_ Oikawa on _not teaching Kyoutani stupid things_. Pfft, who did he think he was – a moralist? As if.

Oikawa knew more about him than Iwaizumi might have thought he did. Oikawa was pretty well known himself in the street racing scene, but Iwaizumi was a different kind of driver. The kind who used brute force over skill, not that Oikawa doubted that he had them. He did, and Oikawa could begrudgingly attest to it, having seen it first hand.

Which was what led him down that path of _sleeping with_ Iwaizumi fucking Hajime in the first place.

“You alright?” Semi asked, cocking his head to the side to give Oikawa a strange look.

“Just peachy,” Oikawa muttered through gritted teeth, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket.

He kicked against the ground in anger, contradicting his statement. Semi huffed something close to a chuckle, but he shut up once Oikawa shot him a glare that could make even him cry. They had left Ariake about an hour ago with Kuroo and Tsukishima, the former giving Oikawa and Semi a ride to the train station after they had dropped off Semi’s LFA in their hidden car hangar along with Kuroo’s M5.

Most of the cars they used for races were kept away from the garage and their homes, which thankfully, the police didn’t seem to know about. It made going out easier when there was a whole batch of cars at their disposal, as long as they could get rid of the cops staking them out elsewhere.

“Whatever,” Semi shrugged when Oikawa’s mood didn’t lift.

“Shut up and go tell me if there are any cops in the front,” Oikawa snapped, waiting at the corner of the street while shooing Semi off to go around. There weren’t any police officers sitting outside his apartment building when he had left earlier that night but that didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be any now.

Semi rolled his eyes but complied, stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, strolling around the corner as casually as he could. Oikawa waited for him to disappear before leaning his head against the wall of the corner building, closing his eyes at the cool feeling of the brick touching his scalp.

Tonight was supposed to be _fun_. He supposed that in a way, it had been, but Iwaizumi being there was definitely not something he had been expecting. When Suga had said that he had friends coming, Oikawa had been prepared for it be anyone _but_ Iwaizumi and his crew. Not that he had been thinking about the other man, anyway.

That was a lie, but he could pretend, at least with himself considering no one else knew what had happened that night. And really, it _was_ no one except for Oikawa. Iwaizumi was either really good at playing dumb – doubtful considering how blunt Oikawa had found him to be – or he actually couldn’t remember a thing. And Oikawa hadn’t mentioned what had happened that night to anyone, considering Kuroo and Tsukishima had expected him to be home, anyway.

The morning after when Oikawa had left Iwaizumi’s makeshift garage, there didn’t seem to be people around, even though it was obvious that the cars there belonged to more than just him. So really, if no one knew then Oikawa would act like that night hadn’t happened either. He was fully prepared to, anyway, but _actually_ forgetting about it was a lot harder.

“You’re good,” Semi confirmed, coming back around the corner and startling Oikawa out of his annoyance. Oikawa jumped at the sound, startled because he wasn’t paying attention, which Semi picked up on instantly. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa agreed, dismissing the concern. “Come on,” he said leading Semi up the stairs to the front door on the second floor.

It was nice having the stairs lining the outside of the building; for one, it made each apartment a little more separate, considering there wasn’t a hallway connecting them all. But for another, it also meant that there was a second set of emergency stairs at the back of the building.

They also led around to the front, but Oikawa’s unit was conveniently placed on the second floor, right at the fence separating the back of the building from the alleyway behind the fenced area, so with the right landing, Oikawa could jump off the stairs and onto the dumpster lid. Kind of an escape route, which _definitely_ came in handy.

“You can have the guest bedroom, you know which one that is,” Oikawa said once they entered the small apartment and discarded their shoes at the front.

Every room in the apartment could be seen from the entryway. To the right of the front door there was a small wall, with a sliding wooden door for jackets and shoes. Behind the wall was the living room that housed a beat up grey couch, a glass coffee table and a flat screen tv hooked up to a PS4 and an audio system.

To the left of the entryway, across from the living room was the kitchen, open as well so that the tv could be seen from inside, which was convenient; it housed a square wooden table with four chairs, enough for all the guests Oikawa could ever need, a fridge, a stove, a microwave and some cabinets for storage.

Next to the kitchen was the laundry room and storage closet; the bathroom at the very end of the apartment in the room after the laundry room. Across from the bathroom was the guest bedroom, where Semi would be staying, and next to the guest bedroom was a slightly larger bedroom, Oikawa’s, that shared a wall with the living room.

It was small, but Oikawa liked it because it reminded him of being inside a car: a little cramped but he had enough legroom to also be comfortable.

Besides, Tokyo’s apartments were always known to be small, and he had gotten used to living in this homey apartment that he didn’t quite feel the need to move out, even when he did have more money. It was nice though _now_ because his rent was cheap, which he definitely needed at the moment.

“Thanks again,” Semi said slowly, dragging his duffel bag across the narrow hallway separating the left from the right side and sliding open the shoji to his room.

Oikawa mumbled something unintelligible over the leftover melon bun he had stuffed in his mouth. It was nearing 4 am, and he probably should have been asleep, but he had barely eaten one meal all day. The perks of owning your own business though was that you could go into work whenever you wanted, especially considering how few customers actually came by the garage nowadays.

Semi came out of his room, changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt while Oikawa was rummaging through the pantry for cup noodles. He looked up at the sound of feet padding across the wooden floors and pulled out a second cup as well, tossing both to Semi to prepare.

“I only have chilli tomato, but I’ll go shopping for some more tomorrow,” he shrugged.

He figured that if Semi was going to crash at his place, he was also going to need food and lately, Oikawa had been living off of cup noodles. They were easy to make, and they were also _cheap_. He also happened to have a bit of an addiction to the artificial flavour. In his defense, it _did_ make the meal taste better.

“It’s fine, buy whatever you want,” Semi said after a few seconds of contemplation. He busied himself with placing a kettle to boil over the stove for the noodles.

Oikawa snorted at his sincerity. “You don’t have to act like you’re saving me some kind of trouble, you know. We’ll probably be eating cup noodles for the near future, so just tell me what flavours you want because that’s one of the only things you’ll be allowed to do while you’re here,” he rolled his eyes.

Semi narrowed his eyes at him, as if trying to figure out if Oikawa was joking or not. Oikawa shrugged his shoulder passively, taking another bite out of the melon bread.

“Fine, cheese curry then,” he answered stiffly, the sound of the kettle whistling taking his attention away from Oikawa’s wrinkled nose.

“Gross. I forgot you liked that stuff,” Oikawa added, opening up a kitchen drawer for two pairs of chopsticks. He grabbed the first cup that Semi had just finished pouring the boiling water to, mixing the noodles around in the broth a bit to let it soften and stir.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, right?” Semi quipped, face turned away from Oikawa. He didn’t try to hide the annoyance in his voice, using Oikawa’s choice words against him.

“No,” Oikawa replied sternly. “You can’t. Which is why while you’re here, you’re going to also be a following a couple of other rules. No visitors, _no sex_ , no using the front door; if you want to leave, use the back door because it locks without a key, but that also means that you’ll need to call me if you want to get back in. I won’t stop you from going out, just don’t expect me to pick you up from wherever because I won’t.”

Semi grunted in acceptance over a mouthful of his own noodles. Oikawa wrinkled his nose again but continued. “No drugs, no weapons, _nothing_ illegal.” Another grunt, this time a more offended one. Oikawa had to cover his bases though. “No smoking inside the apartment either – I don’t want to come home to a fire. On that note, if you _do_ set fire to anything, I’ll bury you alive,” he narrowed his eyes.

“Relax, I’m not the one with the bad cooking record,” he rolled his eyes.

Oikawa made a sound of annoyance, eye twitching at Semi’s cheek. “Fine, cook whatever you want, eat whatever you want, but under _no_ _circumstances_ are you allowed near the milk bread, got it?”

“I feel like I’m on parole,” Semi muttered under his breath.

“Better than being in jail though, right?” Oikawa shot back.

Semi had the decency to flush at the statement. He nodded his head, albeit with a little bit of defiance before moving to the small, wooden dinner table to finish off his meal. Oikawa scooped up his own noodles standing near the sink, not wanting to have more interaction than was absolutely required with Semi. He was afraid that if he got too friendly, that they would become close again, and if they were close, Semi might try and ask him for something else – something _bigger_ than just a place to crash for a few days.

But the other man was quieter than Oikawa had expected him to be; he finished his meal, thanked Oikawa for the accommodations and the food, washed his chopsticks and neatly placed the empty cup in the trash before wishing Oikawa a goodnight. It was odd to see him so _passive_ , but Oikawa couldn’t be bothered to figure out if it was a scam or not. He was too tired to deal with it tonight, anyway.

Oikawa waited fifteen minutes after Semi had gone into his room before washing up and following suite. He needed another shower, but the bed was calling him more, so he changed into a pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt before flopping across the mattress, arms and legs splaying out in a star shape.

There was no air conditioning in the apartment and the August heat was a little annoying, but with the window in his room cracked open halfway, the cool breeze was making the summer night a little bearable. The last thing Oikawa remembered thinking about before drifting off to sleep was that the last time he saw Iwaizumi Hajime, he had fallen asleep feeling hot for a very different reason.

* * *

Iwaizumi wasn’t the nicest of guys out there, but that was only when he was forced to be harsh with people. If they owed money and he went to retrieve it, he was usually given dirty looks and spit to the face, which resulted in a broken jaw and more money than was owed in the first place for _compensation_. Disrespect wasn’t something he took lightly, and if people knew he let someone walk all over him like that, he would lose his reputation and his business.

So sure, he had hurt people because he had to, killed them because he had been hired to, beaten them up _just enough_ to land them in the hospital with a lot to think about, but that was only when he _wanted_ to.

When he was trying to be a decent human being, which he had been trying to be that night, Iwaizumi thought he was a pretty easy-going guy – likeable, even.

Apparently one Oikawa Tooru and one Tsukishima Kei did _not_ think so highly of him. Tsukki, he could kind of understand the hostility from – it _did_ look like Iwaizumi was staring at him when he hadn’t been, so maybe the guy was annoyed by the looks. He was good looking enough that Iwaizumi was sure this wasn’t the first time he had dealt with strangers staring at him, but with Kuroo at his side, Iwaizumi figured that there was never any real threat.

Still, Iwaizumi _hadn’t_ been looking at the guy; he had just been confused, and he tried to say as much, but Tsukishima and Oikawa were so convinced that he had done something _wrong_.

Maybe Iwaizumi had unintentionally done something to someone they knew – the two did seem pretty familiar with his line of work. But then again, it wasn’t a huge secret the kinds of things Iwaizumi did for money. Iwaizumi’s problem with the two men giving him dirty looks lay in the fact that he didn’t do business in Koto and from what he could tell, those two didn’t really interact with anyone outside the ward. So the chances of him having fucked with one of their friends was low.

Besides, if he had, Iwaizumi was certain that he would have been thrown out of Ariake in a heartbeat, not just given a look that made him feel like a _cheat_.

The coldness stemming from Tsukishima was one thing, but the way Oikawa had cut through his gaze like he was tearing Iwaizumi apart with his eyes alone had been a little bit frightening and way too hostile for someone he had just met.

Oikawa’s attitude pissed him off. If he was going to treat Iwaizumi like a dick then he would give Oikawa a reason to want to hate him. But then again, Iwaizumi didn’t think that he’d be seeing Oikawa Tooru again. One night in the man’s presence was enough to make him want to stay clear of the asshole, no matter how pretty he was, or how good his reputation for driving and customizing cars was. He may have been cool, but he was also an asshole and Iwaizumi wanted nothing to do with him.

Unfortunately for him, the haughty man seemed to have rubbed off on Iwaizumi’s youngest team member who hadn’t stopped talking about him the entire ride back from Ariake. Iwaizumi was convinced that if Kyoutani wasn’t a fan boy before, he certain was now, with the way he kept talking up Oikawa.

“Kyoutani, shut the fuck up,” Iwaizumi growled, tightening his grip around the steering wheel. If he had to hear about Oikawa’s drifting abilities one more time, Iwaizumi just might end up shooting himself.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kyoutani growled back, clearly offended by Iwaizumi’s tone.

“Nothing,” he said stiffly. “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.”

Bokuto had ended up making plans with someone or another while they were out, and since he had driven with Kyoutani and didn’t have his own car, Kyoutani had offered to let him borrow his GNX – probably as an apology and a sign of his good mood – which was why he was riding back with Iwaizumi instead.

Iwaizumi was grateful that they had made up and that Kyoutani had forgotten about Kenji and the yakuza, if only for one night, but his endless talking was driving him nuts. It _had_ been a long day and he _was_ tired, so he wasn’t exactly lying when he told Kyoutani that, but the bigger issue was that he didn’t want to hear about Oikawa Tooru anymore.

The man had gotten on his nerves with one look, and when he opened his mouth his mouth and put them down with a few words, Iwaizumi had been ready to throw his ass on the ground. He had heard the same accusations thrown at him before and that was _fine_ – people were allowed to think whatever they wanted of him – but something about how flippant Oikawa’s tone was, as if what he did was beneath everyone there that pissed Iwaizumi off.

What the hell did a rich kid like him even know about choices? The man had been practically raised to own the racetrack and then he went and threw it away for whatever reasons he had. But still, it was his own choices that led him down that road, so it was pretty fucking haughty of him to act like he was better than Iwaizumi was.

Kyoutani snorted disbelievingly. “You don’t like Oikawa anymore or something?”

Iwaizumi frowned. “I never had an opinion of him until today, so yes, I _don’t_ like him.”

Kyoutani cocked his head at Iwaizumi, staring at him hard with narrowed eyes. “I don’t know I just thought you might have but I guess that’s none of my business,” he said shrugging quickly, going back to counting the thousand yen notes he had in his hand.

“Now why the fuck would I like him when I’ve never even met him before? And put that away,” he snapped at Kyoutani, misdirecting his anger at the younger man.

“You’ve never – _hah_ ,” Kyoutani barked a laugh.

Iwaizumi didn’t understand what was so funny. He felt like he was the butt of some joke, and after the night – no, the _day_ – he had, he didn’t have the patience to be made out like a fool. “In case you forgot, he called us yakuza. I thought you’d have disliked him for that too,” he reminded through tight lips.

“I don’t know, I guess I did,” Kyoutani admitted. “But he apologized to me, you know when we went off together. Plus, Yahaba said he’s been going through some stuff with gangs so I think he hates them just as much as we do.”

“What are you, his personal defense lawyer?” Iwaizumi snorted, turning into the dirt-ridden industrial area that led to their warehouse.

“Don’t be such a dick,” Kyoutani snarled. “He’s a good driver at least, and I thought you of all people would be able to respect that,” he said in a voice that was obviously meant as an insult.

Iwaizumi clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in annoyance but didn’t rise to Kyoutani’s bait. Both their emotions had been running high and Iwaizumi didn’t want to start another fight that would cause Kyoutani to go on a rampage. He wasn’t sure they would be able to cool down the hotheaded man for the second time in one night.

“When’s his next race?” he asked as they pulled into a garage.

“What?” Kyoutani asked dumbfounded.

“You said he was a good driver. I’ve never seen him race. If you want me to respect him so badly, I’ll see for myself. When’s his next race?” Iwaizumi repeated.

Kyoutani’s eyebrows furrowed. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned his body to face Iwaizumi, a deep crease in his forehead – the evidence of him thinking deeply about what Iwaizumi’s game was. “I never said I _wanted_ you to respect him, I just – never mind,” he conceded, changing his train of thought. “Don’t know,” he shrugged, “But I can ask Yahaba.”

“Well when you figure it out, let me know,” Iwaizumi grunted, turning the car off and removing the keys. He slipped them into the pocket of his pants as he stepped out.

Kyoutani looked confused for a moment before a grin replaced his pensive frown. “You jealous or something?” he teased.

“Now why would I be jealous of a pretty boy asshole like him?” Iwaizumi snapped.

Kyoutani let out a delighted laugh, one that sounded more teasing than anything and again, Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something. Kyoutani ignored Iwaizumi’s question, asking instead, “What, you gonna challenge him to a race?”

“I might,” Iwaizumi huffed. He actually hadn’t been thinking that. If anything, he just wanted to see how good everyone always made out the Grand King to be for himself. But if he _did_ race him and Oikawa lost, that would also be good incentive to never have to see him again and for Kyoutani to shut the fuck up about how good he was.

“Now _that’s_ something I’d pay to see,” Kyoutani hollered, wide grin exposing his sharp teeth. He slammed the door of Iwaizumi’s car shut, a little too hard which earned him a glare but he was too pleased with himself to pay attention the dirty look thrown at him.

As Kyoutani walked away, pulling his phone out of his pocket to no doubt text Yahaba, Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel like he had signed himself up for something he’d regret. He wanted to _avoid_ Oikawa Tooru, not voluntarily see him again. Or maybe somewhere in the back of his mind he did, but he couldn’t understand _why_ , so he shoved that thought aside and grumbled his way back to the warehouse, slipping into his bed with his mind swirling with more problems than he thought he could have for one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats* who hates me? i can't believe i did this ;; but what i want to know is: did anyone catch this? the way Oikawa kept staring at Iwaizumi expectantly and Iwaizumi thought he had seen Oikawa before? who wants to take bets on how long it'll take for Iwaizumi to figure it out or maybe if he even ever will hmm? *thinking emoji* 
> 
> Pinta: i bet you weren't expecting this but i hope it lived up to your expectations either way *dies*
> 
> next time:  
> \- the most effective way to stop a moving car: a guide by Iwaizumi Hajime  
> \- welcome to the madness that is Iwaizumi's life
> 
> leave me a comment and/or kudos please! and check out the playlist, which i'll be adding to progressively, in the notes below! c:


	5. stand down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _used to doing bad, now we feel like we just now getting it_  
>  _ain't got no other way so we started and finished it_  
>  _no pain, no gain_  
>  _never stand down, made our own way_  
>  _never going slow, we pick up the pace_  
>  \-- **sucker for pain** \- lil' wayne, wiz khalifa  & imagine dragons ft. logic, ty dolla $ign & x ambassador

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;; i am so so sorry for not updating on Wednesday but i was so busy this week and i'm actually in the car rn on a road trip but i figured i owed y'all bc i flopped on Wednesday. 
> 
> but anyway, guess who got a new car since the last update?! this is my third car but def my fav bc the other 2 were hand-me-downs and this one is mine from the start (not that i can even complain about getting any car if i'm not paying for it lmao) technically, it's not brand spankin' new, it's a 2016 Toyota Corolla but it's new in the sense that l o l it got stolen from the dealership and then recovered so it got bought off by the mechanic who fixed it up and well, no one else has driven it since it was _stolen_ so hey, i guess my car has history  >.<
> 
> this chapter really fought me but i hope it's still ok!

Iwaizumi decided that there was something wrong with him. There had to be, for his brain to come up with dangerous ideas like fantasizing about Oikawa fucking Tooru of all people. Racing him was one thing; it would be kind of fun to crush his ass, and Iwaizumi was actually looking forward to the not quite _duel_ but at least small _faceoff_.

Not that he had even spoken to Oikawa about it, and Kyoutani hadn’t gotten back to him about future plans either. But that was a small problem now, shoved into the back corners of his mind while his brain tried to wrap itself around a new idea; a new very _dangerous_ , very _headache inducing_ idea that made blood rush to his cock and a warm pool of desire pit in his stomach.

For three days, Iwaizumi had been torn between finding Oikawa and ripping his throat out, and fucking him against the hood of his car, which was ridiculous.

Just _thinking_ about Oikawa more than he had to was ridiculous.

Sure, Iwaizumi had heard of Oikawa Tooru – he would have had to be living under a rock to not have known who Oikawa was, having grown up in Tokyo his entire life. Oikawa was a rich kid from the west end who was too famous for his own good before he was even eighteen. He didn’t have a _thing_ to do with racing in the streets until he decided to quit his money and fame and move out to the east side of Tokyo to start up a _garage_ of all things.

He was a mystery to most, but Iwaizumi had seen his kind before. The kind of guys who got everything they asked for so they thought they had all the luxuries in the world. Hearing that he had been caught up in some kind of drug bust was a shock to Iwaizumi, but when he thought about it carefully, it wasn’t really that big of a surprise after all.

The people who got everything they asked for always wanted _more_.

Iwaizumi had been content with his own conceptions of Oikawa before he met him in Ariake; whether they were wrong or not had never been an issue because he wasn’t ever going to be involved with the guy. Hell, Iwaizumi didn’t even think he would meet the gaudy douchebag who held the title of the Grand King – who the fuck actually called him that _anyway_?

But then he had run into Oikawa Tooru himself, been treated like vermin, beneath the pompous jerk’s feet, and then had his pre-determined ideas about Oikawa crushed to dust. Oikawa was still a dick and an entitled asshole, but the fact that he _wasn’t_ actually involved with drugs, and cared more about people than he seemed to let on, came as a complete surprise to Iwaizumi.

Not that it even mattered – it _shouldn’t_ have mattered.

Even after Iwaizumi had decided to put an end to Kyoutani’s incessant raving about Oikawa by agreeing to see him race, and hinting that he would be the one to race against him, Iwaizumi had been pretty content to forget the guy until that fated day – _if_ it ever even came down to it.

Except the world – and his subconscious – seemed to be against him. His mind wouldn’t stop coming up with too realistic images of Oikawa sprawled out naked underneath him, flushed and sincere, and too fucking _beautiful_. He couldn’t stop imagining his breathy moans of _Iwa-chan_ while Iwaizumi fucked into him, which was too fucking sexy to be right and Iwaizumi was appalled at himself for even coming up with such a fantasy.

As if that wasn’t enough, Oikawa was haunting him when he was conscious as well.

Only three days after meeting Oikawa in Ariake for the first time, Iwaizumi had been called out to Taito to retrieve a location to some stolen weapons. It was supposed to be an easy job with a good payout, and Iwaizumi had agreed without a fuss, knowing the location that he was supposed to hit well enough that he figured he could do the job in an hour, _easy_.

It was supposed to be a one-man job, but Daichi always liked to play it safe so Iwaizumi and Bokuto ended up going out to Yanaka together. And unfortunately, they ended up having to rely on their two-man squad to find the asshole with the information for where the weapons were stashed. He had a damn fast car, and Iwaizumi wasn’t sure his Chevvy was going to be able to keep up, which pissed him off as much as it came as a surprise.

Iwaizumi's Camaro was a good car that had never failed him in a job before. It wasn’t the flashiest of vehicles, but it got the job done and he didn’t _need_ anything flashy. The less attention he brought to himself, the better.

While most people knew the kind of work he did, Iwaizumi still didn’t like to be so blunt about it, especially when he was working a job. He didn’t need to scare people in these kinds of neighbourhoods; they were scared enough without his help.

He had managed to lose Bokuto in the back alleys, somewhere between the stall that sold questionable remedial herbs and the onsen. The telltale crashing of a car into the brick buildings that lined the area gave him a pretty good indication of what had happened to Bokuto, but he was too focused on trying to actually stop the guy before they somehow failed an easy job to really register the sound.

He hoped the other man was alright, but the front of Bokuto’s car was lined in titanium so there wasn’t much to worry about, except maybe paying for the damages that Bokuto had _caused_ rather than received.

The sight of a black Honda S2000 in the corner of his eye shook Iwaizumi away from his thoughts of Bokuto. The guy was too far for him to speed after and make it, with the way the alleyway to his left narrowed. Iwaizumi cursed but drove straight ahead, taking a sharp left behind a hole-in-the-wall takoyaki restaurant. The fit was tight in the back, and he grit his teeth when the sound of scraping of the brick wall against his car door screeched around him.

He counted down as he zipped past rows of red and brown brick, hoping that he had calculated the time of impact given the speed of the Honda, right. Fortunately, he was right… kind of, because Iwaizumi saw the Honda before he actually hit it. With the last thought that _well,_ _his car was going to need to be fixed up after this anyway,_ Iwaizumi sped forward T-boning the black Honda with little damage to himself.

He leapt out of his car as soon as his head stopped spinning. Luckily, he hadn’t hit the wheel, due to his conscious ramming. He couldn’t say the same for Terushima Yuuji who was currently sprawled against the wheel of his car, trickle of blood slowly running down his forehead. He was injured, but not seriously if the way he was scowling was anything to go by.

When Iwaizumi approached him, he noticed the man’s hand sweep across to the passenger side seat, but before he had the chance to pull out whatever weapon he had stashed there, Iwaizumi had nabbed his hand.

“What the fuck man? Did you have to ruin my car?” he asked through ragged breaths.

Iwaizumi ignored the question, narrowing his eyes at the blonde instead. “Where’d you stash the weapons your stole from the Adachi clan?”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” Terushima chuckled, licking his already dry lips. Iwaizumi wasn’t impressed with the answer. He bent back the fingers of Terushima’s hand that was gripped tightly in his, earning him a loud howl. “Fuck, _fuck_ , relax will you?”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do. You can either give up your hiding spot, or you lose your hand; easy as that,” Iwaizumi said sternly.

“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me,” he muttered.

It was obvious that he hadn’t meant for the words to come out of his mouth, but Iwaizumi had heard them all the same.

He loosened his grip on Terushima’s hand before focusing his attention on his pinky instead, whipping it backwards so fast that the other man didn’t know what had happened until a crushing pain shot through his hand. He howled loudly, and Iwaizumi was forced to cover his mouth with his free hand to stop the sound from travelling.

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” Iwaizumi pressed, expression unyielding.

“This wasn’t even my idea, man. I was just paid to do a job. No one said anythin’ about a broken hand or clan wars, _fuck_ ,” Terushima cut off his rant when Iwaizumi pressed down on his ring finger painfully – not enough to break it, but enough to warn him that he was testing Iwaizumi’s patience.

“Alright, alright,” he agreed. “3-13 Ameyoko. It’s the second warehouse from the right. You’ll find what you’re lookin’ for there,” Terushima confirmed, grunting against the pain in his hand.

Iwaizumi pursed his lips. “And if I don’t?”

“I don’t doubt you’ll kick my ass,” Terushima laughter hollowly. “I have no reason to lie to you. I do what I’m asked, and I know you won’t believe me but I didn’t know I was _stealin_ ’ especially not from another clan,” he said bitterly.

Iwaizumi had heard him the first time, but he figured Terushima was just spouting bullshit; after all, Iwaizumi did have his hand in a vice grip, his other crushed between the side of the door and his leg from when Iwaizumi had T-boned him.

He watched Terushima with careful eyes for a few moments, analyzing his body language, but all Iwaizumi got from his face was pain. He didn’t look like he was lying though, so after one last once over, he released his grip on the man’s hand, which fell limply against the passenger seat.

“Oikawa’s gonna murder me,” he muttered to himself just as Iwaizumi was about to walk away.

Under any other circumstance, Iwaizumi would have ignored the statement because it was clearly unimportant, and not meant for his ears. But hearing Oikawa’s name thrown around like this _after_ the man had called Iwaizumi out for gang associations was ironic; it made his blood boil because that was _fucking rich_ of Oikawa. He turned around slowly, staring at Terushima until the man noticed his gaze again

“What about Oikawa?” he growled, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Terushima looked confused for a few seconds, then just frightened. He shook his head quickly, but the blood that was rushing out from his head wound had made him dizzy and he stopped shortly after.

“Listen, man. Oikawa doesn’t have anythin’ to do with this, I swear,” he insisted. When Iwaizumi didn’t let up his glare, he continued. “I’m just sayin’, he went through a lot of trouble to fix up my car and he’s gonna to throw me out of his garage when he sees what happened,” Terushima chuckled weakly. He stopped though, when a jolt of pain ran through his chest, making him slump forward against the wheel.

 _Oikawa_ was the reason Iwaizumi was having such a hard time catching Terushima? Suddenly, Iwaizumi’s anger at the other man increased ten-fold. He walked over to the front of Terushima’s and propped the hood up without saying a word.

His glare only deepened when he noticed the modified V8 with the quality H60 steel balancing plate to keep it grounded. The turbochargers looked like they were from a different car – more like the one Iwaizumi had in his Road Runner, which shouldn’t have actually worked in a smaller car like the Honda but somehow, Terushima’s car had outdone itself.

“What are you doing?” Terushima called out. Iwaizumi couldn’t see him, but he sounded annoyed. He heard a shuffling of the car door and he peered out to see Terushima had managed to pull himself out from the passenger side, leg banged up, hand limp and forehead bloody, but still looking pissed. “I gave you what you wanted and more, so fuck off, man,” he growled.

Iwaizumi wasn’t one for being spoken to so harshly, especially when Terushima wasn’t in a position to be mouthing off to him, but he knew that it wasn’t his place to check out what was under the hood of Terushima’s car without his explicit permission. Iwaizumi consented to growling in annoyance and slammed the hood back down, leaving the blonde to his own devices.

He would have been lying though if he said he wasn’t pissed off that Oikawa was actually _good_ at modifying cars; what he had done with Terushima’s Honda, which was already a great car to begin with, was absolutely nuts. But somehow, he had managed to make the sports car even more desirable and Iwaizumi had fucked it up.

He could see all the hard work that went behind the adjustment: the custom parts and the wiring were all done by hand. Some of the marks from the unmanufactured soldering were still present, and Iwaizumi was certain to never tell Oikawa that it was his fault something he had so obviously worked hard on had been crushed.

But Oikawa’s overall prowess pissed him off. It was like he _knew_ he was good, which he was, Iwaizumi had no doubt about his ability to fix up cars after seeing Terushima’s, but the way he _acted_ like he was head and shoulders above Iwaizumi made his blood run rampant with rage. It was as if being shown that Oikawa had every reason to be as proud as he acted was just another slap to the face.

Iwaizumi angrily got back into his own car, writing down the address Terushima had given to him before he could forget. He had full intentions of finding Bokuto, but he didn’t have to look very far; his bright, deep blue NSX could be found from a mile away.

“You alright?” Bokuto asked, eyeing the front of Iwaizumi’s banged up car.

They had pulled up into a small alley between two residential buildings. Some of the children playing outside peeked their heads around the corner to get a look at Bokuto and Iwaizumi’s cars, which Iwaizumi didn’t pay mind to. Most kids around here didn’t get a chance to touch anything at even remotely close to the value of their cars so he ignored them, pretended like he couldn’t see what they were doing.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agreed. “You?” he asked, craning his neck to get a look at Bokuto’s car. It was dusty and a little bit beat up but not enough damage to really be noticeable.

“All good,” Bokuto agreed. “I take it you found Terushima?”

Iwaizumi nodded in acknowledgment. “Listen, I need you to go here,” he said, handing Bokuto a piece of paper he had scribbled the address Terushima gave him on. “Just make sure whatever Adachi-san asked us for is in there before giving him a call.”

“Sure,” Bokuto agreed. “Where are you going?” he frowned at the stern look on Iwaizumi’s face.

“I have some business to take care of. I’ll meet you back home though tonight,” he assured when Bokuto raised his eyebrows worriedly at Iwaizumi’s less than happy tone.

“Everything alright?” Bokuto pressed.

“I hope so,” Iwaizumi answered vaguely. “I promise I’ll tell you later, but for now let’s not keep Adachi-san waiting,” he reminded.

Bokuto didn’t argue any further. He grabbed the paper Iwaizumi handed to him, read through the address a few times before getting back into his own car and driving off.

Iwaizumi sighed, driving out of Yanaka, himself. He was tempted to make a quick visit to Ueno, see how his old neighbourhood was doing since he was so close but there wasn’t anyone left there that he knew anymore. He loved Ueno, but it felt like a nightmare going back.

He knew that spending money to maintain the neighbourhood as best as he could without showing his face wasn’t what everyone wanted, but he couldn’t help the way his insides churned with guilt every time he stepped foot into Ueno. It was still just as broken, if not more than it had been when he had been living there, and the fact that he _got out_ – if what he was doing now could really be called that – made him feel like a fake. So he ignored the aching in his chest that craved a touch of home and drove off in the opposite direction.

Once he was on the Ueno Line heading back to Tsukiji, he connected the Bluetooth in his ear to his phone to make a call.

 _“Iwaizumi,”_ Hirata’s obviously fake, sweet voice greeted. _“I was just about to call you, actually. Boss wants you to come in.”_ Iwaizumi could almost see his leering smile.

“That’s funny, I don’t remember ever reporting to a boss,”

 _“Well you know, there’s always the chance for you to start. Someone like you… let’s just say your talents are very well known.”_

“Don’t care,” he said indifferently. “My answer isn’t going to change.”

 _“Yeah, well you might want it to in the near future. The offer’s still open but I’m not sure how much longer my father will be this accommodating.”_

The way he said it was obviously meant as a threat but Iwaizumi never had intentions of working for Hirata-san. He had long since established that he wouldn’t be directly affiliated with any gangs. If they needed a third party to do a job, he’d be more than happy to, as long as it didn’t involve one another, which was the reason he had called Hirata in the first place.

“Listen, you can either hand the phone off to your father or repeat the message yourself. I don’t care either way, but let me just tell you that I made it _very_ clear that I wasn’t going to get involved in any of your turf wars. Well, guess what, I just had to take back what you stole from the Adachi clan and I dare you to tell me that Terushima wasn’t one of your goons.”

When Hirata didn’t deny the statement, Iwaizumi continued.

“Now that that’s been cleared up, I want you to know that if this happens again, neither I nor any of my team will be accepting any work from you. Rest assured, my loyalties haven’t changed and I will be telling Adachi-san the very same thing I’m telling you.”

Hirata was silent for a few minutes before he chuckled. _“You’re smart, Iwaizumi. I can see why my father likes you so much. Don’t worry, I’ll tell him what you said but a word of advice: you might want to change those loyalties of yours soon,”_ he said thinly before hanging up.

Iwaizumi tapped his ear again to turn the Bluetooth off, the dial tone ringing annoyingly in his ear. He clenched his teeth tightly as he drove, the grip on the steering wheel matching the way his jaw tightened.

So his suspicions had been proven correct: there _was_ a turf war in the works. It was no secret that Taito-ku was heavy with gang influences, and Chuo-ku as well, but things had been going just _fine_. Iwaizumi didn’t care, or even want to care about the reasons for there suddenly being a fight in the near future; he just wanted to get himself out of it before anyone decided to pull him into their sides.

There were always problems with the inner circle of the yakuza, the hierarchy constantly changing as groups became larger or smaller, more or less powerful. But they tended to work it out all on their own because involving someone that wasn’t _family_ wasn’t their way of dealing with their personal issues.

Getting Iwaizumi and his team involved in something that was so obviously personal though, meant that things were serious. They didn’t care about the reputation they had built anymore because they were going to rework the whole structure. To say that Iwaizumi was _pissed_ was an understatement.

He had worked too hard, _too long_ , to have everything he had established go up in flames. If the yakuza were fighting amongst themselves then that meant that he’d be forced to pick a side or relocate, because no one wanted someone they couldn’t trust in an all-out turf war.

The yakuza weren’t the friendliest of people to do jobs for, but they _did_ pay well, even though half the money went back to the gangs themselves. Iwaizumi had gotten used to living a modest, if not decent life, and to have to either be stuck in the middle of warring clans or leave the place he had come to build as his home both sounded like terrible options.

He briefly wondered if Kenji knew about this, or maybe he had been recruited one of the clans before he did. Either way, it was starting to make sense why more and more of their rogue workers were picking a side, going for the big guns instead of maintaining their individuality; it made _sense_ , but it still pissed him off.

Iwaizumi sighed, taking the exit for Tsukiji. Instead of heading home to the warehouse though, he turned in the opposite direction of the district. In times like this, he needed to be alone rather than surrounded by other people. He didn’t know what he was supposed to tell Bokuto, Daichi and Kyoutani when he got back. He had promised Bokuto and explanation for whatever was on his mind later that night, but at the moment, Iwaizumi didn’t even know if he _had_ an explanation to what was going on.

He parked his car in an off the street parking lot, taking his phone, wallet, and keys before stepping out into the busy city streets. The only place he wanted to go that was quiet enough to give him the peace of mind he craved was the Hamarikyu Gardens; most people that visited the garden were there to enjoy the stillness of the park surrounding the Sumida River.

The sight of tea ceremonies, and dressed up dwellers in kimono made Iwaizumi smile; a lot of them were tourists but they were so immersed in the culture that if it weren’t for their obviously different features, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart.

He strolled past the large trees, the hills of green grass, the finely crafted gazebos and the old wooden buildings dispersed over the area, taking in the sights briefly. His destination was at the end of the park, an old wooden bridge running over the mouth of the Sumida River; it was difficult to find, located at the end of a thick forest of trees, but it was quiet and peaceful, and a place where he could be _alone_.

Telling his team that they would likely need to relocate wasn’t something Iwaizumi wanted to do. Pledging his allegiance and taking on a bigger role was _definitely_ something he didn’t want to do; if Daichi, Bokuto or Kyoutani wanted to leave their small unit for the yakuza, Iwaizumi wouldn’t try to stop them but he hoped he knew them well enough to think that they also wouldn’t budge from their stance.

He sighed, leaning his weight on his elbows, perched along the railing of the wooden bridge. Iwaizumi ran his hands through his messy hair, pulling up to make it even more spiked than it naturally was. The gardens weren’t a place to smoke, and usually, Iwaizumi would have respected the rules but his stress was fuelling his craving; in the solitude of the trees, no one could see if he pulled out a cigarette anyway.

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure _when_ things would take a turn for the worse, but he wanted to be prepared before that happened. His talk with Hirata was proof that they were moving in; if the man was desperate enough to blatantly tell Iwaizumi to pick a side, it meant he either wanted him, or didn’t care because they already had the means to move forward.

The only way that they would actually be able to get out of this was if both the clans decided to leave everyone alone and just… _disappeared_. But… that wasn’t going to happen. Not unless someone drove them away and… Iwaizumi shook his head, dispelling that train of thought before it could even develop, taking a deep drag of the cigarette between his lips to calm him instead.

He didn’t care for the power or the influence; all he wanted was enough money to live his life comfortably – not be in charge of more people than he could properly care for.

Iwaizumi let out a heavy breath, closing his eyes when the breeze along the river rustled the trees around him. It was peaceful, but even the quiet, calm of the garden didn’t ease the burdens that were building up in his mind.

Things had been going well for a few years now and Iwaizumi hoped he wouldn’t have a crisis to deal with for a lot longer, but life was never fair, something he had learned a long time ago. So really, this shouldn’t have come as a surprise but the fact that it was still an _inconvenience_ , was enough to piss him off.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that for, leaning his weight on the bridge, eyes closed and mind swimming with thoughts – most of them _insane_. The smell of burnt tobacco grounded him for a little while – allowing Iwaizumi to lose himself to his thoughts. When his phone vibrated in his pocket, Iwaizumi snapped his eyes open, reaching for the device.

The late afternoon light was starting to turn into evening, and Iwaizumi hadn’t even noticed until he caught sight of the bright red-orange light of the sun dipping low into the horizon filtering through the trees.

“Iwaizumi,” he answered, bringing the phone up to his ear.

 _“We’ve got a problem_ , _”_ Bokuto said nervously on the other end.

Iwaizumi felt his heart sink. As if today hadn’t given him enough things to worry about. “Where are you?” he asked, moving back to his car quickly.

 _“At the warehouse with Daichi and Kyoutani. We’re fine, but come quick.”_

He felt a bit of relief wash over him when Bokuto said that everyone was okay, but his panicky tone of voice didn’t really give Iwaizumi much room for celebration. “Give me five minutes,” he promised.

Iwaizumi couldn’t even remember the drive back to the warehouse. His body felt like it was on auto drive, hands and feet moving mechanically. The moment he made it into their fenced in quarters, he left his car outside, not even bothering to put it back in the garage before entering the warehouse.

“What the fuck happened?” he asked at the sombre looks on his friends’ faces. They were crowded around the kitchen table moodily.

“I went to the address you gave me but there wasn’t anything there. There were five warehouses in total so I thought at first I just checked the wrong one but every single one of them was _empty_ ,” Bokuto explained.

Iwaizumi ran the scenario through his head. It didn’t seem like the blonde had been lying; he had looked just as wary of being caught in the situation as Iwaizumi was, and Iwaizumi prided himself on being able to read through people’s lies.

“Terushima wasn’t lying,” he defended gruffly.

“I know,” Bokuto stated simply. “I didn’t think you’d have walked away from him with the wrong information. I swear, I looked _everywhere_ ; there wasn’t a single thing that could give away what happened to the weapons. There were lots of marks from heavy crates and a bit of leftover gun powder residue so I’m pretty sure they were stored there at some point just… not anymore,” he answered glumly.

Iwaizumi balled his hands into fists, nodding at Bokuto to continue.

“I was about to call you, ask you what to do but before i could, I got a call directly from Adachi-san. He was _pissed_. Said we weren’t hired to cause a mess in the middle of Yanaka and that he would have spoken to you directly, except he didn’t think you’d be willing to reason,” Bokuto said sheepishly.

Daichi shot him a withering glare, telling him with his eyes that he could have skipped over that part but Iwaizumi was glad that he didn’t. It fuelled the fire that was already burning within him. All these fucking gangs thought they were big shit, making other people do their dirty work and acting like they got everything done themselves. If they didn’t want a _mess_ , then maybe they shouldn’t have created one.

“That’s all?” Iwaizumi asked, almost hopefully. He knew it was a lie though, without even having to look at the way Bokuto’s face twisted down painfully.

“No, he asked me if we had at least gotten the location for the stolen weapons and I panicked and told him that the address was wrong and fuck, Iwaizumi, he hates you, he hates _us_ ,” Bokuto said meekly.

“Don’t,” Iwaizumi put a hand up to stop him before he could apologize. None of this was any of their faults. “What else?” he asked knowingly.

“Well, when Bokuto gave him the news, he hung up and called me instead,” Daichi started. “Told me that he didn’t care what you did now, but that I needed to tell the rest of the guys to pick a side since they weren’t going to let people like us run around unaffiliated anymore.”

Iwaizumi grit his teeth. “And what did you say?” He wouldn’t blame anyone if they wanted to cut ties with him and find a better home. But he also hoped he knew his friends, his team, his _family_ , better than that.

“What do you _think_ I said?” Daichi deadpanned. “I told him he could keep his offers because we weren’t going to change our minds. We’re not changing our minds, right?” he asked as an afterthought.

“Fuck that!” Kyoutani growled, speaking up.

“Listen,” Iwaizumi stated firmly. “I won’t blame you if you want to pick a side. I got a call from Hirata – not the boss but his son – basically telling me the same thing. Taito’s already got more of Hirata’s influence than anything and I have a feeling that Adachi is getting annoyed because Hirata’s trying to expand and take over Chuo too. They probably see us as an unidentifiable threat, so you’re free to choose a side before things get worse,” Iwaizumi grimaced.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Bokuto asked. Iwaizumi was taken aback by his tone. “We’d never do that, _especially_ after Adachi basically said you weren’t important. Not that Hirata is any better but we’ve always done things our way and I’m not ready to lay down my life for someone that’s not one of the people in this room,” he said firmly.

There were murmurs of agreement from Kyoutani and Daichi, the former going as far as to thump the bottle of beer in his hand against the kitchen table a couple of times to echo the consent. Iwaizumi felt a lump form in his throat, so large that it was making it difficult to even _breathe_.

“You sure?” he managed to choke out.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Kyoutani yelled, but there wasn’t any malice in his words. Iwaizumi nodded, unsure what else to say.

Things were already moving in fast and they were caught in the middle of it. Hirata may have had most of the influence in Taito, running the alcohol and drug business there, but Chuo had always been more about the weapons. There were other smaller gangs and yakuza clans in the mix as well, but in the end it would come down to a fight between the Adachi and Hirata clans; It was hard to tell at this point which of the two was going to come out on top. Hirata had the money and the business-sense, Adachi was slowly growing in numbers.

But the important thing now was trying to establish their _own_ ground. Without the people or the influence however, Iwaizumi wasn’t sure how they would be able to do that. Still, he couldn’t help but quietly ask, “What if we didn’t let them?”

There was silence in the room for a few minutes before Daichi finally spoke up. “Didn’t let them do what?” he clarified.

“Didn’t let them kick us out or threaten us to choose a side. They can keep running the wards for all I care but I don’t want them thinking they can intimidate us into leaving if we don’t do what they’re telling us to do,” he elaborated. “I don’t want one group getting more powerful than another and driving Chuo into a hole as well.”

It was a stupid idea; there wasn’t really a way for them to _do_ something about the situation with their current resources, and yet, the way the faces of his friends seemed to glow at the suggestion gave Iwaizumi some kind of hope.

“How?” Daichi, the voice of reason asked.

Iwaizumi knew he wasn’t trying to be critical, but he had always been more realistic one between them all. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Taking out their influence would be a good start but I guess someone else might have done that by now if they could have, right?” he laughed bitterly, contradicting his own suggestion.

He was about to retract his statement entirely; it was all emotions and no logic anyway, when Kyoutani cut him off.

“It’s not that no one _could_ ; they just didn’t have to balls to _want_ to. I don’t care what you want us to do, but this is our _home_ and I’m not about to drop dead because of some assholes who don’t know what a home even means,” he growled menacingly. “I’m with you forever, you jackass,” he said gruffly, cheeks pink from semi-embarrassment.

His words were more thought out than Iwaizumi expected them to be given the circumstance. “Yeah?” he asked unsurely.

“Yeah,” Bokuto confirmed. “Kyoutani’s right. We made it clear from the beginning that we weren’t going to get involved with a side. We’re not cut out for that kind of hierarchy and I don’t think any of us want that either. If we’re going to be pushed to pick a side, then we’ll _push back_ ,” he said. With those few words, Iwaizumi knew he had their support no matter what they decided to do.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Iwaizumi chuckled, but his laugh held no mirth – just raw affection for his team.

“And yet, you’re the one with the ridiculous ideas,” Daichi quipped. Iwaizumi’s face fell, only for a small smile to replace the momentary panic just as quick when he saw the twitch of his best friend’s lips.

He shook his head, hiding a laugh. “Thanks for having my back. All of you,” he turned around to look each of the three men standing around him.

“You don’t have to thank us. We know you’d do it for any of us in a heartbeat,” Bokuto reminded, punching Iwaizumi’s shoulder lightly.

“Yeah, don’t be such a sap about it,” Kyoutani added, making the room erupt in laughter. “Anyway, since we’re probably out of business for a while, wanna make some easy money?” he asked, failing to be flippant. He stared Iwaizumi right in the eye and from the look the younger man was giving him, Iwaizumi just _knew_ what kind of easy money Kyoutani was talking about.

He didn’t want to see Oikawa tonight – Iwaizumi had been having enough thoughts about him for the past few nights to last him a lifetime – but he _had_ promised Kyoutani and he wasn’t about to become a liar. Thankfully – or maybe not – their conversation hadn’t spread to Daichi or Bokuto, so they agreed easily. Iwaizumi had a feeling Daichi also had someone he wanted to see and Bokuto was always up for something fun.

“Ariake’s hosting a race again tonight. We going?” The question was directed at Iwaizumi who had yet to confirm.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “We’re going,” he said to the sound of excited shouting. Iwaizumi cracked a smile before speaking to Kyoutani directly. “And when we get there, let us meet your mechanic boyfriend; my Chevvy got a little too banged up and I want his opinion on it,” he added, a little too teasingly for the situation.

Kyoutani suppressed a groan before mumbling something that sounded oddly like _‘Why don’t you ask yours?’_ but before Iwaizumi could ask him to repeat himself he answered more loudly, “He’s _not_ my boyfriend.”

“Your fuck buddy then,” Bokuto supplied unhelpfully, which launched a growl and a punch from Kyoutani before Daichi stepped in to separate them.

Iwaizumi didn’t pay them much mind, thoughts trying to wrap around what Kyoutani had muttered under his breath. He shook the words off when Daichi thumped him on his back and reminded him to go change so they could meet out in the front. He forgot all about Kyoutani’s snarky comment the moment he was in his black Road Runner, heading back to the four storey parking garage that was both going to give him a well needed distraction and a headache in the form of one Oikawa Tooru who was too pretty for his own good.

The thoughts of the Adachi and Hirata clans’ turf wars were replaced by Oikawa in a matter of seconds. He was impressive and fucking aggravating all at once. Iwaizumi just wanted to hate him in peace – even though he had no reason to – but Oikawa was making it very hard for the logical part of his brain to wrap itself around that thought.

That conflicting feeling, caught between anger and astonishment was only heightened when Iwaizumi actually _saw_ Oikawa again. He was still wearing his ridiculously endearing black face mask, resting just under his neck; he had on a loose, oversized blue shirt with the words ‘New York’ written across in block lettering, the two words separated by the opening of the button-up resting on top of a white t-shirt, black jeans, and blue Vans. A plain black baseball cap covered part of his face, but Iwaizumi could still see the sharp cut of his brown eyes even underneath the shadows of his hat.

Once again, Iwaizumi was reminded of how simple he looked in comparison to the man who looked like he had walked off a runway. He had dressed up a little more today, maybe subconsciously he wanted to show Oikawa even though that was a ridiculous thought. But even though he was wearing nicer brown Chukka boots, blue jeans and a white hoodie with a very airy, brown bomber jacket on top, he still felt out of place next to Oikawa. Maybe it was his height, or maybe it was the air of confidence he carried around him, but Iwaizumi was pretty sure Oikawa could look good wearing anything – or nothing at all.

The man in question stared at Iwaizumi through his window the entire time Iwaizumi was pulling into the garage. It was as if he had been waiting for him, which he probably was with the way his eyes zeroed in on Iwaizumi’s car as quickly as it had. They arrived earlier than they had three nights ago, so the first floor was still empty enough for Iwaizumi to park his car there, but he almost wished it wasn’t so that he had a reason to get away from Oikawa’s steely gaze directed at him.

It didn’t take long for Daichi, Bokuto and Kyoutani to pull in as well, the former two going off with a short wave and a promise to be back later. Iwaizumi was tempted to walk away too, but Kyoutani’s light brown eyes were boring holes into him. He jerked his head to where Oikawa was standing with another man with sandy brown hair who looked just as well kept as Oikawa did.

“Yahaba,” Kyoutani greeted, nodding at Oikawa’s companion before turning his head to Oikawa and repeating the same greeting. “Oikawa.”

“Hello Kyouken-chan,” Oikawa smiled, patting Kyoutani on the shoulder when he let out an annoyed ‘tch’ but didn’t bother to correct the nickname.

“Kyoutani,” Yahaba smiled. “I see you weren’t lying when you said you met Oikawa a few days ago,” he chuckled.

Kyoutani bared his teeth. “Why the fuck would I lie about that?”

Iwaizumi was surprised when Yahaba only tinkered in response, ignoring Kyoutani’s aggression entirely. “I take it you’re Iwaizumi?” he asked, turning his attention to Iwaizumi instead.

“Yeah,” he agreed, looking away from Oikawa whom he was having a silent staring contest with. What were they – twelve? “Nice to finally meet you. Kyoutani claims you’re the best mechanic in town,” Iwaizumi laughed, standing his ground when Kyoutani shoved at him hard for ousting him like that.

Oikawa let out a disgruntled sort of sound. Yahaba smiled, shaking his head at Iwaizumi’s declaration. “Only because I apprenticed under Oikawa. If anyone’s the best, it’s him, then Kuroo, and _then_ me,” he corrected humbly.

“This is why you’re my favourite student,” Oikawa cooed, wrapping an arm around Yahaba’s shoulder. Iwaizumi briefly found himself wondering if all the people Oikawa was friends with were as good looking as him.

“What about me then?” came a new voice, distracting Iwaizumi from his indulgent thoughts. His cocked his head thoughtfully when Semi appeared, nodding his head in a short greeting at the other men.

“My least favourite,” Oikawa answered swiftly.

“Whatever,” Semi rolled his eyes. “I came to talk to Yahaba, anyway. Your race is about to start and Suga is getting all pissy. His new boy toy can’t even distract him from running a schedule,” he mused.

Yahaba chuckled and nodded, grabbing Kyoutani’s wrist and pulling him along after Semi; Kyoutani only let out a few protests but the way he didn’t even drag his feet was a good indication that he was more than happy to go with Yahaba. Iwaizumi smirked to himself, forgetting that he was alone in the company of Oikawa until the man spoke up.

“They’re kind of cute,” he said offhandedly, looking at Iwaizumi for a reaction.

“I guess,” Iwaizumi shrugged, stiffening at having his thoughts exposed. Was Oikawa doing it on purpose or was he being genuine?

Oikawa scoffed. “Are you always this dismissive?” he narrowed his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Iwaizumi frowned, anger tugging at his insides.

“Nothing,” Oikawa shrugged, folding his arms over his chest protectively.

Iwaizumi couldn’t understand why Oikawa was being so cold to him, but suddenly Yahaba's words of praise and the modifications that Iwaizumi had seen Oikawa do on Terushima's car started to whirl through his mind.

And Iwaizumi's crazy idea of making the Adachi and Hirata clans get off their backs and let them keep doing their business the way they always had seemed like nothing compared to what Iwaizumi was about to ask Oikawa to do. Albeit, it was for the same eventual goal in mind – but hitting his targets and actually showing the yakuza clans what they were made of would require good, no _great_ cars and there was only one person in all of Tokyo who Iwaizumi thought could be up for it.

He calmed himself down, the reminder that Oikawa really _was_ as good as everyone made him out to be calling out to the voice of reason in his head.

“Those were some pretty sweet adjustments you made to Terushima's car,” he said as casually as he could.

Oikawa's look of annoyance was replaced with a thoughtful expression for a few seconds before he frowned. He didn't look _upset_ but he definitely didn't look happy either – like he was trying to figure out whether Iwaizumi was insulting him or not.

“You know Terushima?” he tilted his head to the side.

“Kind of?” Iwaizumi offered.

He wasn’t about to tell Oikawa that he destroyed part of his hard work. The guy already seemed to hate him for whatever reasons he had, and Iwaizumi wasn't going to give Oikawa more of a chance to chew him out. Especially not when he was about to do something stupid like ask Oikawa for a _favour_.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at Iwaizumi's vague response but thankfully didn't press him further. “We should probably go up and watch the race. I promised Yahaba I'd be there,” he said dismissively, indicating that the conversation was over.

But the way he didn't uncross his folded arms or the way he maintained his casually leaned back position against the hood of his car, right leg crossed over his left, which showed off just how damn _long_ his limbs were gave Iwaizumi the hope that maybe the conversation _wasn't_ over.

“Oikawa,” he said hesitantly.

Oikawa raised a brow at him questioningly. “Hmm?” he asked, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. It was like he just _knew_ that Iwaizumi was about to ask him for something. The confident expression on Oikawa's face almost deterred Iwaizumi from pressing forward but he would have look stupid _now_ if he just said ‘never mind.’

“Do you still do modifications like that?” he asked, waving his hand vaguely.

Oikawa's smirk was full blown now. "You mean like what I did for Terushima? Maybe," he shrugged. “Why?”

“I have a proposal,” he said nodding his head towards Oikawa.

“Sorry, not for sale,” Oikawa smiled, teasing lilt in his voice.

Iwaizumi flushed at the insinuation. “I– I didn't mean it _that_ way,” he said defensively.

“Oh? I was talking about the car,” he jerked his head behind him. “What did _you_ mean?” he chuckled. Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if he was flirting to be a dick or because that was just part of his personality. He couldn’t help but feel like it was a mix of both at the moment.

“I need your help. I want to offer you a job,” he pressed.

“Already have one,” Oikawa said flippantly, wiping all the amusement off his face.

“I don’t mean I want you to quit the one you have. It’d be a part-time one, and only for a limited time, I swear,” he promised.

“Now why would I ever say yes to you?” Oikawa narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened at the question. “The money?” he asked hopefully.

“How shallow do you think I am?” he snapped.

Iwaizumi stepped back a few steps, giving Oikawa some space to show that he was sorry along with the sheepish look on his face. He knew that he had touched a nerve with that, especially considering Oikawa’s current financial situation but the words were out of his mouth before he could retract them.

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant,” he ran a hand through his hair.

“Isn’t it though?” Oikawa pressed, vexation written clearly across his face. “You think you can offer me a job because I _need_ the money, right? Wrong. I don’t need anything, especially not from you,” he said defiantly.

“Come on, Oikawa, but _I_ need you,” he said a little desperately. “I’ve never seen someone hook up a turbocharger to a small sports car like the Honda S2000 and it actually _worked_. There’s no one else with your skill and I’m asking you to help me out.”

Oikawa pursed his lips seemingly thinking the proposal over. The way his brown eyes swirled dangerously though, Iwaizumi knew he had lost even before he was given a chance to plead further.

“Flattery,” he stated simply. “Now that’s new, but the answer is still no. I don’t do things that get me involved with the yakuza, and you _scream_ trouble. I don’t want that kind of business nor do I want those kinds of people around me. I already have the cops on my tail for who knows how long so why the _hell_ would I ever purposely involve myself with the yakuza as well? What makes you think you’re so special, huh?”

“We’re not yakuza,” Iwaizumi glared, green eyes darkened to an almost black with his face pulled down into such a severe frown.

“You could have fooled me,” Oikawa pressed, face just as determined as Iwaizumi’s.

“You don’t know me, Oikawa. I don’t care what you _think_ you know, but we’re _not_ yakuza. Never have been and _never_ will. I may not be the perfect human being but I sure as hell am not as fickle as you, either. You think you can lecture me about gangs when you’ve got a thug hanging off of you? Don’t think I didn’t see you drive out with Semi on Friday,” he spat venomously.

Iwaizumi’s words had lit a raging fire in Oikawa’s eyes. He could almost _see_ the flames flicking around in his irises, consuming them entirely, threatening to leak out and spread across his face and burn Iwaizumi in the process. Oikawa Tooru had always been a dangerous man but in that moment, Iwaizumi realized he never knew what Oikawa was capable of until then.

“You’re right,” Oikawa said after a while, expression unyielding, face hard with anger. “I _don’t_ know you, so why don’t you stop acting like _you_ know _me_ ,” he retorted bitterly.

Oikawa took a few steps forward, cornering Iwaizumi against the concrete support beam, one of many scattered throughout the garage, fisting the sides of his open jacket in both hands and tugging forward.

He stared at him over brown eyes brimming with fervour. Iwaizumi stared back, his own gaze just as hard but Oikawa’s emotions overpowered his and soon, he was overcome with the feeling of wanting to look away from those fierce eyes.

“You don’t know _shit_ about who I hang out with or _why_ so _fuck off_ ,” he seethed, shoving Iwaizumi back against the beam harshly before unclenching his fists from around Iwaizumi’s jacket and stepping back.

Iwaizumi felt a bit of pain run through his back from being jostled so suddenly, but the confusion and anger spreading through his body at the moment almost made him forget about his aching back.

“You’re so fucking conceited, you can’t even take a second to look around you before judging!” Iwaizumi said angrily, the words spilling out harshly.

He knew he was shouting now but the sound of music coming from the fourth floor drowned out most of the noise. The proximity between him and Oikawa was the only reason any of their anger was even carried over between the two. Oikawa glowered at him but didn’t answer. He moved to step away but decided against walking off at the last second.

“What do you see when you look at me?” he asked Iwaizumi seriously.

“What?” Iwaizumi asked, stunned by the question, face fuming with a stagnant anger.

“What do you see when you look at me?” Oikawa repeated. “An entitled rich kid who threw away everything to fit in somewhere he doesn’t belong, right?” he asked knowingly before Iwaizumi had the chance to respond.

Iwaizumi flushed because those were his exact thoughts. He hated being called out like that, even though that didn’t mean that he was _wrong_. But despite everything Iwaizumi had said to him, this was the first time Oikawa didn’t look pissed just… _hurt_ , and Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel like there was more to Oikawa than met the eye, and that maybe he _was_ wrong.

“Oikawa…” he said slowly. He wasn’t sure why he felt guilty. Maybe it was the tone of voice Oikawa was using – not weak, just accepting.

“Doesn’t matter,” he waved off. “You think I’m conceited and judge easily but you’re just the same as me, _Iwa-chan_ ,” he bit venomously.

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened at the use of the name; he flushed as the fantasies he had woken up to that morning came flooding back. He was almost ashamed of himself for thinking about it while Oikawa was _right in front of him_ , but he wasn’t give the chance to be properly embarrassed by Oikawa’s aggravated tone.

“How about we both agree that we _don’t_ know one another and it’s best if we never do. I’m flattered by your offer, but it’s never going to happen so don’t ask me again,” he said firmly.

This time when he moved to walk away, he didn’t turn back. And Iwaizumi didn’t try to stop him – the feeling of guilt pooling in his stomach, making his insides squirm and palms sweat because as much as he disliked Oikawa, he was still just another person. And he was _right_ – Iwaizumi _didn’t_ know anything about him.

Asking him for help then putting him down was also a downright stupid thing to do.

Iwaizumi had fucked up – more than he thought he could have in one day. And now Oikawa – the one person that could help him out of the bad situation the clans had put him and his team in – would never want to even see him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> clothes!  
> \- Iwaizumi's [outfit](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/72/e5/0e/72e50e0bd6957f9184cd34f3caaf72bb.jpg)  
> \- Oikawa's [outfit](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/0d/64/c0/0d64c02b62afbbb18bf15e97c9680763.jpg)
> 
> and i mentioned a tattoo for Iwaizumi last chapter which i forgot to link a picture to, so Iwaizumi's [tattoo](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/a8/d7/29/a8d7290baf91ab488db53bd86692fb3c--koi-fish-tattoo-fish-tattoos.jpg)
> 
> next time:  
> \- unexpected visitor  
> \- can worrying make you sick?
> 
> just a note that i'll be on vacation this week and won't be back until Friday so i might get the next chapter up on the weekend or... i might wait 2 weeks for the next chapter (mostly bc i have yet to finish chapter 7 and i get panicky when i'm not at least 2 chapters ahead on these weekly updates lmao) or maybe i'll just the update days to Sundays we'll see >.<
> 
> leave me a comment or kudos please!


	6. regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _now I'm out here looking like revenge_  
>  _feelin' like a ten, the best I ever been_  
>  _and yeah, I know how bad it must hurt_  
>  _to see me like this, but it gets worse (wait a minute)_  
>  _now you're out here looking like regret_  
>  _ain't too proud to beg, second chance you'll never get_  
>  \-- **sorry not sorry** \- demi lovato

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not dead, i promise, even though i feel like my muse is abandoning me. school starts tomorrow, and i'm going to be really busy, so if you haven't noticed it yet, i changed the update schedule to bi-weekly (every two weeks, **not** twice a week *curses the English language*)
> 
> i'll be updating Wednesdays still! i hope i didn't disappoint too much ;; i'm going into my senior year of university and my courses aren't exactly fun, but i'm going to try my very best to keep to this update schedule! 
> 
> hope you enjoy this chapter tho!! it was, kind of hard for me to write, but i hope i managed to do it justice, anyway *hides*

Oikawa couldn’t believe Iwaizumi’s gall. First, he fucks him then forgets him. And  _then_  when they meet again, he acts like Oikawa isn’t worth his time when  _he’s_  the one who had been all over him – the one to  _initiate something_  – the first time that they had met. And to top it all off, he insulted Oikawa and asked him for his help in the same conversation.

What kind of an idiot did Iwaizumi take him for? Just because he was hot did not mean that Oikawa was going to drop everything and give him what he wanted. And  _just because_  he had friends in high places, the kind of people who took without giving a shit who they were hurting, Oikawa wasn’t going to change his mind.

He wasn’t afraid of people like that. He knew what they had done to Semi and what they had inadvertently dragged Oikawa and Kuroo into as well. Oikawa had spent six months fighting people who only took and didn’t want to  _give_ ; Iwaizumi may have thought that Oikawa didn’t know him, but he knew his  _kind_.

At one point in his life, Oikawa would have done whatever anyone may have asked as long as they paid him for it and weren’t going to come back to him, which was why he had helped out Terushima in the first place.

But now, he had his morals to hold. It may have seemed stupid that he was throwing away a good business opportunity, but he had already dealt with enough cops to last him a lifetime. If he had to step foot in another court, he thought he was going to go absolutely insane. He may not have had the  _luxury_  to choose what kind of business he accepted nowadays, but he still had his freedom.

This wasn’t the kind of life Oikawa had chosen for himself; not one where he was under suspicion, anyway.

He had never once regretted his decision to leave home – he was chained there, bound by his parents’ wishes, because their support in his success didn’t mean a thing if they didn’t support who he was either. And they didn’t, which was fine, because as much as Oikawa hated how narrow-minded people could be, he knew that it was inevitable. He had long since gotten over the fact that this were  _his_  parents who were like that because in the end, he knew that family was always something that was  _chosen._

While he didn’t regret the way life had turned out for him after high school, he knew that in a sense, he had been lucky, so while he wasn’t pleased with wrongful charges, he was starting to move on from that. Iwaizumi trying to wiggle his way into Oikawa’s closed off bubble wasn’t something Oikawa was prepared for.

Iwaizumi said he wasn’t affiliated with the yakuza but that was the last thing that was running through Oikawa’s mind for the rest of the night. It wasn’t his place to question him; Iwaizumi didn’t have a reason to lie to him but that didn’t make him a good person either. Oikawa wasn’t an idiot – he knew the reputation that followed the other man and his group around. Just because he had momentarily lost sight of himself  _once_ , didn’t mean he would do it again. Oikawa already knew first hand what it was like to get involved with Iwaizumi, and that was a mistake he wasn’t willing to make for a second time. Especially not now that he was trying to re-establish himself.

He had somehow managed to walk away from Iwaizumi without punching him, but he was ready to rip his head off the next time he saw him. Thankfully, Iwaizumi kept a safe distance from Oikawa the rest of the night following their argument, seemingly understanding Oikawa’s rage.

Plus, Oikawa had a race later that let him blow off some steam. It was a good break from all the thoughts that had been eating away at him, and when he came home with an extra two hundred thousand yen in his pocket, he figured he could call the night a win despite his argument with Iwaizumi.

He wasn’t worth it, and Oikawa wasn’t going to waste his time –  _or his energy_  – on someone who was so selfish he couldn’t see past his own needs.

Which was another thing that pissed him off about Iwaizumi. He had acted like he had Oikawa’s best interests at heart when he tried to convince Oikawa to jack up his cars for him. Sure, he could see the desperation in Iwaizumi’s voice, but he was also fucking conceited about the whole thing. Not once did he care about what kind of a position that would put Oikawa in. He had been honest with Iwaizumi when he told him that he didn’t need more trouble banging at his front door; the cops were enough.

And who knew how long they were going to hound him for, which Oikawa was reminded of again when he got home that night and found them lurking outside. He had Semi distract the men sitting in the squad car by shooting a fire cracker into the ground in the next street over, while he climbed up the stairs to the front, keeping the back door lodged open for Semi to enter from later.

It was kind of nice having someone live with him to make sneaking out and then sneaking back in easier. It was also a pain in the ass actually having to go through the trouble of  _sneaking out of and into_  his own home. Maybe street racing was illegal, but so what? If the cops were stupid enough to have not found out where they were holding their races then they shouldn’t have even been allowed to arrest them.

Oikawa knew he was being unfair and that he was just bitter about Iwaizumi’s attitude, but the anger faded as the week passed and Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t make another appearance.

By the following week, Oikawa had all but forgotten about Iwaizumi. Semi was still living with him, which was unsurprising and Oikawa had already prepared himself for this kind of burden but he was pleasantly surprised when the other man returned to his old job at the ramen stall to actually help  _pay_  for groceries even if he couldn’t exactly help pay rent. That was fine though, since Oikawa still had his car and not once did the other man bring up the topic of borrowing it, even for a few minutes.

On Monday, they closed the garage – not that it was even necessary to put up an official notice that they’d be out for the day and the rest of the week. But most of Tokyo was busy with the Obon festival and Kuroo had suggested that they continue their tradition of closing the garage for the week as well. They really didn’t have much else to do, so Oikawa had agreed.

Most of Monday afternoon and evening was spent touring downtown Tokyo, the city streets lit up with lanterns and paper cranes for the holiday. It was kind of fun being out and about with Kuroo, Tsukishima and even Semi. They ended the night by watching the bon-odori dance the Hongwanji Temple in Tsukiji that was hosted every year.

The Temple was packed with people – both locals and tourists – there to enjoy the loud, welcoming atmosphere that the red and gold lanterns hung around the perimeter of the temple, loud taiko drums, and cheering brought. Obon had become a sensitive time as of late around their household, but it reminded Oikawa to appreciate the people he had, and to live life to the fullest for those whom he had lost.

Oikawa was very aware of the fact that the last time he had been to Tsukiji had been four months ago and he kept looking around in the off chance that he would see Iwaizumi there. Maybe being in the same district would spark one of his memories, and Oikawa wasn’t sure if he feared that thought or if he looked forward to it. A part of him wanted Iwaizumi to figure it out eventually, but another part of him wished for him to remain oblivious so that maybe one day, Oikawa could forget that memory too.

Kuroo had given him odd looks all evening, courtesy of his jittery behaviour, but Oikawa had passed it off as him probably catching a cold. After all, they had gone out to Ariake twice in one week after six months and Oikawa wasn’t used to being surrounded by people once again. Growing up with all the protection he could need around the racetrack had given him a sort of weak immune system to those kinds of surroundings, which was the reason he had started wearing a mask out in the first place.

But eventually, he got used to it, and the black face mask just became something people recognized him by. He was glad that he had brought it along with him both times last week, because while Oikawa was definitely nervous about running into Iwaizumi on  _his_  turf, he really _was_  feeling a little under the weather.

The night passed easily, however, and by the time Oikawa and Semi made it back to Oikawa’s apartment in Shirakawa, he was feeling a lot better. It had been fun pretending like things were back to normal, even for one night. With the Obon festival bringing the city together, the cops had also been laying off their backs, which helped let Oikawa think that things were okay again. He knew it wasn’t really true, but he could pretend like it was at any rate.

On Tuesday, Oikawa woke up with a bit of a sore throat. He passed it off as just an effect of him having to talk loudly over the sound of drums at the temple last night. It had been extremely crowded; while Oikawa was used to that kind of an environment, they had somehow managed to find themselves next to the bandstand where the taiko drums were played right into their ears, which wasn’t exactly  _fun_.

He could still hear the ringing in his ears when he woke up that morning, but he figured it would pass, just like the aching in his body and his sore throat considering he had been feeling  _fine_  when he got home last night. He lay in bed for a while, hitting the home button on his phone to check the time eventually. A groan left his throat, irritating it further when he noticed that it was already 10 am.

“You look like shit,” Semi greeted Oikawa when he came out of his room.

Oikawa grunted in annoyance. “Thanks,” he mumbled unhappily.

He didn’t think that he had looked  _that_  bad, but then again, he also hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror before coming out into the kitchen.

“Where do you keep your medicine?” Semi asked. He was frowning, arms crossed over his chest in a disapproving stare.

“There should be some in the stand next to the tv. I’m fine though,” Oikawa pressed when Semi moved across the apartment to get him something.

Oikawa shook his head, ignoring the condemning look Semi kept throwing at him over his shoulder while he searched through the stand for something that would help. He moved further into the kitchen, noticing a pot of miso soup on the stove and the rice cooker on the counter next to it.

So maybe there were other perks to having a roommate – one that could cook well, at any rate. Oikawa had learned to do it himself a long time ago, but that didn’t mean he was particularly good at it, or that he didn’t prefer store bought instant noodle packages and meals to a home cooked meal. It was just  _easier_ , and with the busy life he led, quick and easy dishes were his go-to. He supposed though, that with time having slowed down a bit, he should at least take advantage of the extra hours in his day and treat himself.

Which was why he had offered to host the dinner that night. It was tradition for Kuroo, Tsukishima and Oikawa to visit the graves of Kuroo’s parents who had passed away a few years ago from a plane crash, then come back for dinner at either Kuroo and Tsukishima’s apartment in Hirano or Oikawa’s in Shirakawa – both equal distances from the cemetery.

With the way Oikawa was feeling now though, he didn’t think he would be able to even visit the graves today, let alone cook dinner.

“Sit down,” Semi instructed, passing Oikawa a bottle of cold medicine and a glass of water. “Eat some breakfast before you take this though and then go to sleep,” he ordered with a purse of his lips.

Oikawa quirked a teasing smile. “Semi-chan, do you perhaps  _care_  about me?”

“Shut up, Oikawa,” Semi growled. “Of course I fucking care about you. It’s  _you_  who doesn’t care about yourself. How many days have you been living off of only milk bread and instant noodles?” he asked tetchily.

Oikawa’s eyes widened at the aggravation in Semi’s voice. He hadn’t realized  _his_  not taking care of himself was such a big deal to Semi. But Oikawa had never liked people telling him what to do, even if those people were only looking out for him.

He scrunched his nose up in distaste before huffing angrily. “What I eat is none of your business,” he replied, scoffing slightly.

Semi sighed deeply, not even bothering to hide his annoyance. He looked like he wanted to say something – he opened his mouth  _to_  say something, and then closed it, deeming the case lost. Oikawa thought the conversation was over, and it was for a few minutes as he scooped out a bowl of rice and another one of miso soup before sitting at the table to eat. Semi joined him a few seconds later, his own bowls balanced in his hands along with their a pair of chopsticks for the rice and a spoon for the miso.

Oikawa took his with mumbled thanks, scooping some of the soup over the rice before eating it.

“You’re not going out today, are you?” he asked warily.

“I have to,” Oikawa insisted. “It’s August 15th, if you haven’t noticed, and I’m not about to let the two people who took me in after my own family practically disowned me think that I don’t care about them,” he said in a tone that didn’t leave much room for argument.

But Semi had never been one to know his limits; not with Oikawa or with anyone else. He raised his eyebrows threateningly before dropping the chopsticks he had clasped in his right hand against the wooden table with a clatter.

“Don’t be fucking stupid. You’re sick, and you’ll get other people sick if you go out.”

“I’ll cover my face,” Oikawa argued.

“You’ll get worse,” Semi retorted.

“It’s just a  _cold_. Relax, I’ll be  _fine_ ,” Oikawa rolled his eyes in annoyance.

Semi quirked his lips up slightly. “So you admit that you’re sick then? Good, because Kuroo’s not going to let you go out today, anyway,” he said offhandedly.

Oikawa furrowed his brows, straightening up over the bowl of miso he had previously been hunched over. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I told him you were sick,” Semi said plainly, going back to his rice.

“ _Excuse me_?” Oikawa asked. “When did you do that? No,  _why_ did you do that?” he asked angrily.

Semi didn’t deter because of Oikawa’s frustration. In fact, it only made him realize his decision had been right. “You looked out of it all of last night, and when you didn’t wake up at 8 am sharp like we all know you do after a good night’s rest, I figured something was up. I texted Kuroo and he agreed. He said not to let you out,” Semi shrugged.

Oikawa’s jaw dropped open. Not to  _let him out_  – what was he,  _a dog_? He pushed the breakfast aside in a form of a not so silent protest before getting up to trudge back into his room. Like Semi or Kuroo were going to stop him from going out today.

“Oikawa,” Semi said calmly, following him back into his room.

“I get that you’re trying to get back on my good side, but this isn’t doing you any favours,” he snapped.

“I’m not trying to do anything except be a decent guy,” Semi said harshly. His usually stoic expression was replaced by a hard frown. “You’re sick, stay the fuck in and get better instead of acting like an idiot,” he continued.

“What about dinner then? Did you guys decide to kick me out of it as well without my knowledge?” he bit back.

“No one kicked you out of anything,” Semi reasoned. Oikawa hated that he was being calm about this. He wasn’t a  _child_  and he hated being spoken to like he was one. “And no, you’re still hosting dinner. But I’m cooking,” he said seriously.

“No way, this is my apartment,” Oikawa said stubbornly, taking out a red sweatshirt from his cupboard and pulling it over his head.

So maybe he was feeling a  _little_  feverish and so maybe he had a  _bit of_ a cold – that wasn’t that big of a deal. He didn’t need to be  _babied_  like he was some invalid. Semi raised an eyebrow knowingly as Oikawa lay down on his bed, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head before turning his back to Semi and pulling the covers over his face.

The other man stayed at the doorway for a few seconds before entering Oikawa’s room and hovering over him. Oikawa closed his eyes but he could still see the shadow of Semi’s figure through his closed eyelids and the sheets pressed up against them.

“You may not believe that I care about you, but Kuroo definitely does. And I know you’re not that much of an idiot to ignore his advice. He and Tsukishima will be over tonight and you can go visit his parents’ graves when you’re better. I’m sure they’ll forgive you,” he reasoned. “Just let me cook dinner; we both know I’m the better cook between us, anyway,” he said through a small smile.

Oikawa didn’t find the insult particularly funny but in the end, he knew Semi was right. Just because it was Semi who was giving him the news, didn’t mean that Kuroo didn’t believe it. He had worried his best friend enough in the past six and a half months, and Oikawa knew that the right thing to do was to listen to him and not worry him further.

“Fine,” he mumbled begrudgingly into the sheets he had pulled up around him. “We’re out of groceries though so you’ll need to buy something,” he added as an afterthought. He had been meaning to go this morning and beat some of the rush but that obviously hadn’t panned out.

“Yeah, that’s fine. The market near the station is open all day,” he reminded.

Oikawa hummed something unintelligible as a sign of comprehension. He wondered if he should offer Semi his car but they weren’t at that level of trust yet – or ever again if Oikawa was being honest so he kept his mouth shut despite the guilt. “You can borrow the house keys this  _one time_ ,” he proposed, if only to quell his own guilty conscience.

Semi chuckled lowly. “Thanks, how generous,” he rolled his eyes.

Oikawa opened his own and pulled down the covers, tucking them under his chin at the sound of the teasing. “Don’t be an ass or I won’t listen to anything you say ever again,” he threatened through a glare.

“Yeah, yeah, just get some rest. I’ll be back,” he promised.

Oikawa muttered an ‘okay’ before turning back around in his bed. He hadn’t realized how tired he really was, but that was definitely his body’s way of telling him that he was sick and needed to sleep. He heard Semi leave his room, satisfied by Oikawa’s compliance. Once he had changed, he came back in with the medicine Oikawa had conveniently forgotten on the kitchen table and after making sure that Oikawa had taken the required dosage, he left the house.

It was never silent in Tokyo, and the window was still open, which was probably adding to his chill, but Oikawa couldn’t sleep when it was too quiet anyway. He had grown accustomed to the bustling streets, the honking cars and loud peddlers that kept Tokyo alive. It was nice to know that even when he was alone, he wasn’t really  _alone_.

The thought was comforting, and Oikawa easily fell asleep to the city sounds.

The next time he woke up, it was due to the immense heat that had crawled through his entire body. From the way the sun was lower in the sky, streaming right through his blinds, Oikawa could tell that it was mid to late afternoon, but after pulling the sweater off and kicking his sheets away so they pooled at his feet, he felt sleep come over him and he drifted off once more.

He was vaguely aware of the sound of chopping in the kitchen and the sizzling of boiling water, so he figured Semi was home but he didn’t pay much mind to it; he couldn’t have even if he wanted to with how tired he felt.

When Oikawa’s eyes finally snapped open again, it was a few hours later. His room faced south so the light from the setting sun wasn’t directly casting shadows across the furniture and the walls, but it was noticeably darker. He rubbed at his eyes a few times, getting rid of the groggy feeling. Despite the fact that he felt much better than he had this morning, his bones still felt achy and his throat was still a little sore; Oikawa hoped that it was just a twenty-four hours cold or something small.

He heard mumbling in the living room, and he figured Kuroo and Tsukki had arrived already. He couldn’t believe he had slept through most of the day, but if the fact that he was even  _able to_  was any indication, he definitely needed it.

Before Oikawa could contemplate getting up to brush his teeth and change he heard a soft knock at his door. “Oikawa?” Semi called slowly.

“What is it?” he called back, voice a little rough from the lack of use.

“You have a visitor.”

“Ugh, tell Kuroo I don’t want to see him. Can’t he wait like fifteen minutes for me to get ready?” he groaned unenthusiastically.

“It’s not Kuroo,” Iwaizumi answered.

Oikawa felt whatever colour had returned to his face during his rest drain instantly. “ _No_ ,” he said seriously. “Semi why the fuck is he in my apartment? I told you that you could borrow the keys, and you bring home pests!”

Semi opened his door, taking a step forward and Oikawa immediately shot up off the bed. He looked like shit, he was very aware of this fact, but Iwaizumi didn’t even react when his eyes raked over Oikawa’s sleep-ridden body. His hair was sticking up in every direction, with bed hair that could rival even Kuroo's. His eyes probably looked as gaunt as they felt and not to mention the fact that he hadn’t even showered or brushed his teeth today.

And yet, Iwaizumi didn’t even show a slight reaction.

Oikawa wasn’t sure if he should have been pleased by his impassivity or annoyed by it. He  _was_  grateful that Iwaizumi didn’t seem to want to come into his room; at least he knew what privacy was, even if Semi apparently didn’t.

“He’s not exactly someone I can say no to,” Semi said seriously, staring at Iwaizumi from the corner of his eyes.

“Well  _I_  can,” Oikawa said defiantly. “Get out of my room, Semi. And you,” he pointed at Iwaizumi who still stood outside the threshold of Oikawa’s room, “Get out of my apartment.”

To say that he was  _angry_  was an understatement. Stupid Semi. This was why Oikawa shouldn’t have trusted him with anything.

“Oikawa, I came to apologize to you, not bother you, I swear,” Iwaizumi said earnestly.

Oikawa was too busy whacking Semi with a spare pillow to really pay him much mind. “ _Out_!” he yelled, much too hoarsely for his sore throat.

His voice cracked at the end and his face twisted into a painful expression; a look of concern crossed Semi’s face. “Shit, are you okay? Do you need water?” he asked. Before Oikawa could answer he left the room to presumably get him just that.

Oikawa furrowed his eyebrows at Iwaizumi who was still staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Oikawa glared, which didn’t seem to deter him. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest – not in an unfriendly way but it still pissed Oikawa off that he could look  _at ease_  in  _his_  apartment.

Oikawa was hoping Iwaizumi would leave him alone, but it didn’t seem like he knew when to give up. It didn’t help that his unfairly large biceps were peaking out from under the navy t-shirt he had on. Oikawa hated looking like a mess in front of other people, especially ones he disliked because having the upper hand was always satisfying; right now though, he looked fucking terrible.

“Thanks,” he muttered when Semi brought him back a glass of water. He gulped it down slowly, eyeing Iwaizumi over the rim.

“I didn’t know you were sick, I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi apologized.

The genuineness in his voice made Oikawa want to scream at him but he had abused his poor throat enough for one night. He only grunted in acknowledgement, which gave Iwaizumi all the clues he needed – as if Oikawa telling him to  _get out_  wasn’t enough.

“I hope you feel better,” he said awkwardly. “I’ll show myself out.” He nodded at Semi, half-heartedly waved at Oikawa and took his leave.

The moment Oikawa heard the front door close, he rounded on Semi. “What the hell is your problem? Letting him into my apartment  _without_  my permission? I didn’t realize that you  _crashing_  here meant that you had a say in who comes in. Remember when I said no guests?  _That_ ,” he pointed at the doorframe where Iwaizumi had just been. “Was guests!” His nostrils flared in anger as he huffed out the last sentence.

“Do you even know who that was?” Semi asked seriously.

“Yes, I know who Iwaizumi is and he’s fucking  _trouble_. I already let you back into my life against my better judgment but I’m not about to drop everything for him. I don’t even know him, Semi, and I get that everyone’s scared of him but I’m not so  _don’t_  let him near me again,” he glowered.

Oikawa could understand where Semi’s hesitancy had come from, but it still didn’t make him any less annoyed. Anything involving Iwaizumi Hajime was seemingly driving him up the wall. It didn’t help that he already wasn’t in a good mood. Having to see Iwaizumi in his apartment had only riled him up. He sat down on the bed, dropping the empty glass of water onto the nightstand.

“I didn’t know you guys had history,” Semi said carefully, trying to get a feel of Oikawa’s reaction.

“We don’t,” Oikawa said firmly. “He wants my help with something and I don’t want to give it. It’s as simple as that,” he answered stiffly.

Semi stared at him through confused eyes for a few moments before he resigned. He dropped the arms he had crossed over his chest down to rest against his sides instead. “Well, he seems to want you really badly. He left his phone number, in case you ever change your mind. I put it up on the fridge,” he shrugged before heading back out, leaving Oikawa alone in his room once more.

 _Seems to want you really badly_  – yeah, in one way or another. The irony of that statement made Oikawa’s head hurt so he ignored the feeling, throwing his head back against the pillow instead because it was just easier. At least Iwaizumi hadn’t actually said anything about whatever proposal he had for Oikawa; he said he had come to apologize and the frightening thing was that Oikawa actually  _believed_  him.

He tucked a spare pillow under his chin, clutching it against his chest tightly in hopes of dispelling some of the pent up frustration that Iwaizumi had brought with him.

When Oikawa had calmed down enough to forget or at least, push aside the fact that Iwaizumi had come to his house, he checked his phone, which read 7:23 pm. Kuroo and Tsukishima were supposed to arrive at 8 pm and from the smell wafting into Oikawa’s room, he deemed that dinner was ready. That was his cue to wash up and change into something that wasn’t a pair of worn grey sweats and a black t-shirt.

He begrudgingly picked himself off of his bed and tried to wipe any ill emotions off his face while he showered. He didn’t need to explicitly tell Semi for the man to understand that Iwaizumi showing up at his apartment was supposed to be a secret. Oikawa didn’t plan on seeing him, and he didn’t want to involve Kuroo in that kind of a mess either.

His best friend deserved someone better than him, if Oikawa was being honest. But while Oikawa couldn’t take away the problems he had already caused, he  _could_  prevent new ones from making their lives worse.

“Whoa, smells great in here,” Kuroo beamed when Oikawa opened the door for him at 8 pm, sharp. “Must mean that Semi cooked,” he teased, pulling Oikawa in for a short hug.

“You’re too happy for someone who just came from a cemetery,” Oikawa said suspiciously, eyeing Kuroo to determine if he had already been drinking. “Sorry I couldn’t come today,” he added quietly, only for Kuroo to hear.

“That’s alright, you know okaasan and otousan won’t mind,” he reminded, ruffling Oikawa’s just-styled hair.

He wrinkled his nose at the affectionate petting before ushering Kuroo inside and pulling Tsukishima into a hug too. The lanky blonde begrudgingly wrapped his hands around Oikawa’s waist, muttering, “You better not get me sick,” before shuffling inside and letting Oikawa close the door behind him. “Did you take any medicine?” he asked, after pulling his shoes off, letting the fact that he cared show through his irritation.

“Don’t worry, I’m feeling great. Semi-chan took great care of me. Maybe I should hire him as my personal assistant to pay off his debts,” Oikawa winked.

Semi flushed while Kuroo laughed loudly. Tsukishima didn’t seem impressed that Semi was there, even going so far as to bluntly ask Semi whether he had poisoned their food once they actually sat down to eat. The question made Kuroo choke over his mackerel and Oikawa stare in stunned silence before bursting out into laughter. Semi didn’t look all that thrilled with the teasing, which was borderline  _questioning_  at this point, but Oikawa couldn’t really fault Tsukishima for being wary.

Kuroo was the kind of person to get pissed easily and forget just as quick. He was hot headed but kind to a fault. Tsukishima on the other hand didn’t forget the damage people did – both to him and his friends.

He had come down from Miyagi for college and ended up working at a bar part-time to help pay for tuition, which was how he and Kuroo had first met. He didn’t know anyone in Tokyo and was reserved, which made it hard for Kuroo to try and get to know him.

It took a lot of visits to the bar, most of them with Oikawa in tow to try and annoy Tsukki enough for him to think Kuroo was the more tolerable one of the two – those were Kuroo’s terrible flirting tactics,  _not_  Oikawa’s idea – but Tsukishima saw right through it all. He was firm, and confident in a way that made Kuroo admire him even more, which meant a lot of pining on Kuroo’s part and a lot of random visits to the bakery across from their shared apartment at the time for Oikawa.

After it didn’t seem like Kuroo’s persistence would let up, Tsukishima gave him a chance, eventually letting him into his tight inner circle and once Kuroo was in, there wasn’t a chance in hell Tsukishima wouldn’t try to protect him.

Oikawa could feel Tsukishima’s annoyance directed at him as well, but Tsukki kept whatever choice words he had to say to Oikawa to himself. Instead, he poked at Semi throughout dinner, hedging him for information about what he was up to when Oikawa was at work and even implying that he should leave soon. Oikawa was grateful for Tsukishima’s protectiveness but it was making the dinner a little awkward.

Usually, it was only Tsukishima, Kuroo, and Oikawa who got together for their Obon dinner, but while Semi’s presence brought a lot of recent bad memories, Oikawa couldn’t forget the fact that Semi  _had_  cooked everything and had been helping him out as much as he could the past week and half. Even though he was a hardass towards Semi, Oikawa could see that the other man was trying to repent, and Oikawa had never been the kind to ignore people’s effort.

Thankfully, Kuroo was thinking along the same lines, and together, they managed to change the conversation whenever it got too aggressive. Tsukishima didn’t look impressed in the least with Kuroo and Oikawa’s obvious tactic, but Semi let out a small sigh of relief every time it happened, which would have been funny if it weren’t for the fact that it was still so  _tense_  between the four of them.

Once dinner was over and Oikawa had taken a second dose of medicine to keep him going for the night, Kuroo pulled Tsukishima onto the couch, sifting through the tv channels for something they could watch together. Semi cleaned up the kitchen, which was probably just his excuse to get away fro Tsukishima’s suspicious glare, but with Kuroo at his side and a volleyball game on the screen, he was a little more satisfied.

The match playing out on the other side of the tv – the voice of the commentators drowned out by Kuroo’s own retelling of the gam – was enough to calm down some of the tension. And when Semi finished cleaning up the kitchen and laid out some beers on the coffee table, the alcohol  _definitely_  helped ease up the rest of the tension in the air.

By the time it was 10 pm, they were all sated and happy. Oikawa had all the alcohol taken away from him, something about being  _sick_ , but that didn’t even matter. He didn’t need to drink to enjoy the company of his friends – even Semi.

“Fuck, those F.C Tokyo windbreakers look so cool,” Kuroo complained when the game switched to a commercial break.

“Then buy one,” Oikawa rolled his eyes, placing a hand over his mouth to cover a yawn as Kuroo wrinkled his nose in distaste at Oikawa’s easy solution.

Kuroo was sprawled out on the couch, legs spread over two seats and dangling off one of the armrests, his head resting against Tsukishima’s lap. Tsukki was tucked up against the other armrest, running a hand through Kuroo’s hair rhythmically, which Kuroo seemed to be enjoying, if the absentminded humming was anything to go buy.

Semi had taken over one of the armchairs while Oikawa found himself in the second one, knees tucked up to his chest and a happy smile on his face. He was sucking against a cough drop to ease his sore throat, but otherwise, he felt good. No more fever, and after the shower he had earlier, the achiness had disappeared as well.

“You know, I could definitely rock one of those,” Kuroo continued, earning a snort from Oikawa and a poorly concealed laugh from Semi.

Even Tsukishima rolled his eyes at that, but he had a little more to drink than he usually allowed himself so he smiled right after, leaning down to peck Kuroo on the forehead to distract him from the laughter in the room. If Oikawa wasn’t already used to their disgustingly domestic affections, he might have been affected by the display.

But it had been a good four years since Kuroo and Tsukishima had first started dating and by now, seeing them act so cute was like second nature.

“Maybe if you wear it with your red and black Nikes,” Oikawa supplied, earning a satisfactory grin from Kuroo.

“Right? That’s what I was thinking. Plus – oh wait the game’s back on,” he stopped his sentence midway, turning his head to face the tv once again.

Kuroo had definitely had the most to drink out of all of them, which showed on his bright cheeks and blissed expression. Part of it had to do with how comfortable he was but most of it had to do with the alcohol in his system. His eyes were glazed over and it looked like he was going to fall asleep soon, but he somehow still managed to keep himself awake and shout his loud commentary for the volleyball game.

Oikawa was too used to Kuroo’s incessant talking when it came to watching volleyball that he didn’t even mind anymore. Tsukishima had either tuned Kuroo out, or was too focused on watching the game himself. Semi didn’t care either way, a slightly uncomfortable expression still riddling his face. Oikawa looked at the coffee table with all the empty beer bottles.

He stood up to collect them, getting a light kick to the back of his legs from Kuroo when he blocked the tv. “They’re panning across the crowd,” Oikawa tutted in disapproval.

“Don’t care,” Kuroo groaned, urging Oikawa to move out of the way.

He caught sight of Semi who moved to get up as well but Oikawa shook his head, indicating that he’d get another beer from the fridge for the man himself. The blue sticky note that Semi had pinned up to the fridge door with Iwaizumi’s contact information on it got caught in Oikawa’s peripheral vision and for a few seconds, Oikawa let his eyes linger over the note.

_I’m really sorry. Call me so I can apologize properly._  
_3 – XXX – XXXX_

He snatched the sticky note off the fridge door, having forgotten about it entirely with Kuroo and Tsukishima’s presence. Something about the way he wrote the damn thing felt like it was mocking Oikawa, but he knew that Iwaizumi was just trying to get on his good side. Whether he was apologizing because he  _meant it_  or because he thought it would get him what he wanted from Oikawa was still a mystery.

Still, Oikawa couldn’t help but want to find out. He handed Semi the beer bottle and sat back down in his own seat, the sticky note resting heavily in his pocket. Oikawa tried to immerse himself in the game, but he couldn’t focus when his hands kept twitching towards the back of his jeans, wanting to stare at the stupid note that made his insides squirm in something more than displeasure every five seconds.

By midnight, the game ended and Oikawa was feeling more exhausted than he had been when he woke up that morning. Semi offered Kuroo and Tsukishima the guest room, which they usually occupied when they stayed over, but Tsukishima denied the offer, muttering something about not wanting to be anywhere near Semi for longer than he had to. Semi either hadn’t heard, or chose to ignore the statement, stiffly walking away to get the futon instead, which he laid out in the living room for the.

Oikawa retreated to his own room, changing into clothes suitable for sleeping – grey sweatpants and another t-shit – but the moment his back hit the bed, it was as if all the exhaustion he had previously been feeling had been wiped away.

It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before he mumbled a “Fuck it,” and grabbed the red sweatshirt he had discarded on the floor earlier in the evening and pulled it back down over his chest, phone in one hand and the sticky note with Iwaizumi’s phone number in the other.

He could have just texted him – he should have just  _thrown away_  the damn paper, but Oikawa didn’t know what had gotten into him. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was the fact that someone said they needed him when he felt like no one did in a long time. It was a dangerous route and Oikawa recognized that train of thought as the same one that had allowed him to get involved with Iwaizumi in the first place. Still, he couldn’t ward off the logical part of his brain.

Tsukishima and Kuroo were fast asleep in the living room when Oikawa tiptoed past them, slipping on a pair of sneakers and stepping onto the balcony outside.

It was late – almost half past midnight – and Oikawa was hoping that he could call Iwaizumi once, have his call ignored and deem that he had tried and never needed to speak to the man again.

Unfortunately for him, or maybe fortunately if the way his heart sped up when he heard Iwaizumi’s gruff voice answer,  _“Iwaizumi,”_  on the other side of the line, Iwaizumi didn’t know what a proper bedtime was.

“I guess you really did give me the right number after all,” Oikawa said a little shakily. He blamed it on the wind and  _not_  Iwaizumi’s voice.

 _“Oikawa?”_  he asked, a little dazed.

“Who else?” Oikawa retorted, a little annoyed that Iwaizumi didn’t recognize him immediately.

 _“What’s wrong?”_  Oikawa could almost hear the frown in his voice, see that little crease that seemed to appear between his eyebrows whenever he was thinking about something unpleasant.

“What do you mean ‘ _what’s wrong_?’ You left your number and Semi said you wanted me to call you. But if his information was wrong then I guess I’ll hang—”

 _“No,”_  Iwaizumi said loudly, cutting him off.  _“I mean,”_ he cleared his throat.  _“No, he was right. Sorry, I just didn’t think you’d call this late.”_

Oikawa wasn’t sure if he was relieved or annoyed. He clutched the phone tighter in his grip, leaning his weight against the railing of the black, fenced balcony. He wedged his knee between the metal pickets, a little clang echoing into the night, adding to the sound of the streets as Oikawa toed the metal.

 _“Are you feeling better?”_ Iwaizumi asked hesitantly.

“Do you really care?” Oikawa laughed hollowly.

Iwaizumi was silent for a long time; Oikawa would have thought that he had hung up, if it wasn’t for his steady breathing that was making its way through the line.

“Why’d you come by today? That was really fucking stupid of you, by the way. I’m sure you’ve done your research on me by now, so you should  _know_  that I’m not exactly in the best position with the cops. Do you think them spotting you of all people near, hell,  _in_  my apartment was going to do me any favours?” he asked tetchily.

 _“I did a sweep of the area first,”_  he said slowly.

Oikawa let out a disgruntled tutting sound that left another silence between them. This was unlike Iwaizumi, to be so  _passive_ , and it pissed Oikawa off that the other man would think Oikawa stupid enough to play this game with him. “So, what did you want?” Oikawa asked bluntly.

 _“I wanted to say I was sorry,”_  Iwaizumi admitted.  _“You were right the other day when you said I didn’t know you and it wasn’t any of my business to judge who you hang out with. I’m not apologizing because I want something from you so don’t take this the wrong way but I would like to explain some things to you regarding why I asked for your help in the first place.”_

“You know,” Oikawa said slowly. “I’m really not going to say yes. So why bother telling me your side of the story? I called to hear if you were actually going to apologize so you better not have gotten your hopes up,” he added as an afterthought to cover his bases.

 _“I know,”_  Iwaizumi said immediately.  _“I thought—”_

“You thought you could convince me with your explanation, right?” Oikawa cut him off.

_“That’s not what—”_

“Oh, come on Iwa-chan, we both know I’m not that stupid,” Oikawa smiled wryly. “But tell you what, though. I guess I’m feeling generous so how about I let you race me. If you win, tell me whatever you want. I can’t guarantee that I’ll help you out after hearing your story but hey, you might have a chance. That is,  _if_  you manage to beat me.”

 _“Oikawa,”_  Iwaizumi started hesitantly.

“Are you really going to say no when this is the only opportunity you’ll get to convince me to help you out?” he asked teasingly. “Remember when you said you  _wanted_  me,” he asked, stressing the word to get across the double meaning.

 _“Needed,”_  Iwaizumi corrected.

“I don’t think that helps your case,” Oikawa laughed. “Final offer. Take it or leave it.”

 _“Yeah, okay,”_  Iwaizumi agreed before Oikawa could change his mind. “Tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

Oikawa almost wished that Iwaizumi had taken a little longer so that he  _could_  have changed his mind. This was a stupid idea, even for him. He had already decided that he wasn’t going to give in to Iwaizumi; Oikawa  _didn’t want to_  help him out. He also didn’t want to see him again because he had enough of Iwaizumi to last him a lifetime.

And yet, here he was suggesting stupid things.

“I can’t tell if you’re confident or desperate,” he answered through pressed lips.

 _“Is it that obvious?”_  Iwaizumi asked, laughing amusedly, like he had just lost something.

Oikawa didn’t answer the question. “I’ll text you the details. Goodnight,” he said quickly, hanging up before he could do, or say something else that was stupider than what he had already done.

That seemed to be a pattern though for him any time Iwaizumi Hajime was involved.

Something about the other man brought out the recklessness in Oikawa; he wasn’t sure if he should have been aroused by that feeling or frightened. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Oikawa knew it was a mix of both and  _that_  was the worst part about it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to anyone who is wondering why the description of Oikawa's family history is so vague, it's bc i have a future scene planned between him and Iwaizumi where things _do_ come to light (if that makes any of you feel better about where this story is going too lmao). does this make me a bad storyteller?  >.> it's not super vital to the _plot_ so i'm really sorry if some of you are curious! 
> 
> next time:  
> \- "are you following me?"  
> \- the long awaited race 
> 
> on a side note, my brother got this new pair of Nikes that are all black with the Nike symbol in the Seijou blue/teal and they're so nice *_* i may or may not make Oikawa wear a pair of those in the future lmao
> 
> please leave me a comment or kudos! ♡ they really do motivate me, and inspire me for the fic, and next chapter is Oikawa and Iwaizumi's race, so i'd love to know who you think is going to win c:


	7. collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _till the roof comes off, till the lights go out_  
>  _till my legs give out, can't shut my mouth_  
>  _till the smoke clears out, am i high? perhaps_  
>  _i'ma rip this shit till my bone collapse_  
>  \-- **till i collapse** \- eminem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god guys, i am _so sorry_ for how long it has taken me to update this fic!! i've had this chapter written for a while but my muse tends to abandon me completely when i have zero updates waiting on me so i had been selfishly keeping this chapter away from all of you until i had another one written. 
> 
> good news though is that one: the long awaited Iwaizumi vs. Oikawa race is in this chapter and two: i have chapter 8 written!! 
> 
> school has been such a goddamn pain and so busy lately tho ;; i'm really sorry for how long i've kept y'all hanging but you're amazing if you're still here and reading! 
> 
> for anyone who is wondering why i update my other fic weekly: it's because the whole fic is written and has been written since the end of the summer >.< i started this one after i finished the other completely and well, i guess i overestimated how much my muse loved me lmao
> 
> i do hope that this 9k+ chapter appeases you for the length of time between the updates!
> 
> ps: this chapter will be edited in the morning ;; i've been writing all day and i'm ready to sleep rn lol

It had been three days since Oikawa had called Iwaizumi and not a word from him since. He told Iwaizumi that he would text him the details, but Oikawa hadn’t sent him a message, nor a call either since the first time. 

He was surprised that Oikawa had even looked at the sticky note with his number, let alone taken the initiative to call him, but once he had, Iwaizumi couldn’t get the idea of him contacting Iwaizumi again out of his mind. Except that hadn’t happened yet, and Iwaizumi was starting to worry if it ever would. 

At first, Iwaizumi thought that maybe Oikawa sent the message to the wrong number but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that was just wishful thinking. Either Oikawa had changed his mind or… he regretted offering to race Iwaizumi in the first place. Maybe he thought he was going to lose and succumb to whatever side of the story Iwaizumi had to share. But that couldn’t be right either. 

Every time Iwaizumi had interacted with Oikawa up until that moment, he had been nothing but confident and boisterous. Something like the _possibility_ of losing a race wouldn’t deter him. So what, he was undefeated – Iwaizumi may have gotten a hold of some of Oikawa's stats through his sources – that didn’t mean that he was afraid of losing to Iwaizumi. 

If anything, he had just decided Iwaizumi wasn’t worth his time. 

If Iwaizumi was being honest with himself, he wouldn’t have been very accommodating either if he’d been in Oikawa's position. That fact had only been solidified when he decided that maybe he should drop by Oikawa's garage Friday evening but had been deterred from entering when he saw two squad cars lingering closely: one parked in the front and another more hidden, near the back of the garage. 

He didn’t know how Oikawa was dealing with that kind of presence, especially considering he and Kuroo had been _cleared_ of all charges. Iwaizumi could understand why Oikawa had been so pissy with him, even if he didn’t like the attitude. 

Still, he knew Oikawa was better than any other mechanic in the city. Hell, he was probably better than anyone else in the _country_ and Iwaizumi was dead set on getting his help. 

He realized how selfish his thoughts were; he wanted to save something he had worked so hard to build by throwing Oikawa into the mix ungratefully. The irony of it was ridiculous, but he hoped that Oikawa would want to help him of his own will. If anything, that would erase _some_ of the guilt he had been feeling every time he thought about the other man and how he had rightfully called Iwaizumi out on his self-interest. 

Oikawa shouldn’t have mattered to Iwaizumi – he _didn’t_ matter to Iwaizumi – and yet, after Iwaizumi had driven past his garage and aborted his mission when he saw the squad cars, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of sympathy for Oikawa Tooru. Iwaizumi still maintained that the other man had too many luxuries in life, but he was starting to regret ever attempting to involve Oikawa in the first place. 

He shook those thoughts from his mind quickly, hoping that if he didn’t think about them, then they couldn’t lead him to do something stupid. Like call off the plans. 

If anything, that was probably the _less_ stupid thing to do, but he had already excitedly given in to Kyoutani’s whims and had spoken to the rest of the group about his thoughts. Even Daichi, the voice of reason amongst them, had agreed that taking out the influence of the Hirata and Adachi clans was a good idea and the _only_ way for them to bring their city back to its previous state. 

In the past week, Datekou’s entire group had disbanded, some joining up with opposing clans, the others fleeing Tokyo entirely. The thought only fuelled Iwaizumi's resolve, and before he knew it, he had more than just a half-assed plan for what exactly they were going to do and how. 

The Tokyo Bay was a large area, used mostly for import and export as well as to contribute to the fishing industry. Living in Tsukiji now, Iwaizumi knew how important fishing was to the economy, but its importance also helped hide some of the corruption that was going on underneath. 

Most of Adachi’s storage was kept in the fishing market, the stall owners having been bought out by the affluent clan. Iwaizumi knew that without their weapons business, they didn’t have the money, and without the money _or_ the weapons, they didn’t have the support of the locals, which was what they needed if they wanted to maintain their hold on Tsukiji. 

Taking out some of the cargo ships and hijacking the transport of incoming weapons was number one on the list. But if they didn’t time it right, then Hirata was going to have the upper hand. Most of Hirata’s money came from drugs but those were never easy to pinpoint. They had a lot of smaller gangs who reported to them, who would keep doing what they did even if Hirata lost its hold on the drug business. 

Iwaizumi knew that the best way to take _them_ out was to target their gambling ring. The funds to run the drug operations came from underground gambling, so taking out the top of the pyramid would allow the base to crumble naturally. 

He knew his plan needed more work, but he had everything outlined. The only part that was still hazy was Oikawa's involvement. Without him… things weren’t going to be as easy. Kyoutani said he would ask Yahaba to help them out and the other man had agreed, if a little hesitantly, but he wasn’t Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi knew he was being more than a little bit stubborn, but a part of him wanted Oikawa's help _because_ the other man didn’t understand what a big deal this was. Iwaizumi couldn’t make him understand though, and that was the part that was driving him mad; certainly not the part where he kept thinking about Oikawa Tooru and his pretty brown eyes and fiery personality. 

He shook his head and focused on the task in front of him instead. Just because Oikawa hadn’t agreed to anything yet didn’t mean that Iwaizumi wasn’t going to go ahead with his plan. So maybe he’d have to tweak it a little depending on the man’s answer, but for now, Iwaizumi would have to do all the preparation that he could. 

Which was how he found himself wandering the busy fish market of Tsukiji early Saturday morning. It was packed with locals and tourists alike, the large, open space busy and incredibly _hot_. It was too humid, the clear skies providing absolutely no shade from the blaring sun. 

He wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans; on his head sat a black snapback turned backwards to keep some of the heat off his dark hair, but even then, the crowd and the weather were against him. 

He both loved and hated how busy the market was; it made navigating through the streets and into the stores undetected easier, but it also meant he had to wait through a lot of long lines and maneuver himself in between too many old men who couldn’t decide between cod or tuna and old women haggling about prices. He got stopped a lot and asked to help out with lifting boxes or carrying bags from the dock to the stores, which he could have declined, but the part of him that was raised to help those around him, the part that was _built_ to aid couldn’t just shake his head and walk away. 

He had arrived at the fish market at 8 am, but by the time he found himself near his destination, it was almost 11 am. It didn’t help that the store he was trying to get to was on the outskirts of the market, on the opposite side of the entrance with the large steel fish hanging above the gates, way past the busy tuna auction. It took Iwaizumi a lot longer to get there than anticipated, but he was thankfully greeted by a practically empty store when he stepped inside. 

He knew he had come to the right place when he was met by the pungent smell of Kusaya upon flinging the door to the small shop hidden in the corners open. A chiming bell sounded his entrance but no one came to greet him. The store was tiny and packed, most of the space covered by walls filled with an assortment of strange fish-flavoured snacks. There were two aisles squished very close to one another, with barely enough space for one person to squeeze through them comfortably, in the middle of a rectangular room. 

The walls were painted a yellowing green, but they weren’t noticeable behind all the merchandise anyway. The store was compact, which added to the overall heat inside; there was a small fan sitting on top of the counter doing a very poor job of cooling the place down. In fact, the only thing it did was waft the fermented fish smell around. 

Iwaizumi passed by the only two people in the store – a couple searching through the aisles of stacked fish jerky sorted by flavour – and headed straight for the counter where he rang the small bell a couple of times. He heard the sound of shuffling in the back room until a door opened and a face popped out, lazy and uninterested at first until his eyes landed on Iwaizumi at the front. 

“Thought you’d have been long gone by now,” Tendou smirked, waving Iwaizumi into the back for some privacy. 

There was only one reason Iwaizumi would be here anyway, and Tendou knew this well. Iwaizumi jerked his head around the store once, before following Tendou into the stockroom. He didn’t respond until the taller man bolted the lock on the door behind them securely. 

“Is that really the kind of impression I give?” Iwaizumi frowned concernedly. 

“Nah, but you _should_ be long gone by now,” Tendou corrected. “The kind of things people are saying about you… you know you’re a dead man if you don’t choose a side,” he reminded. 

Iwaizumi shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll deal with that when it comes down to it. What about you?” he asked knowingly. 

Tendou raised his eyebrows, hooded eyes widening slightly before they fell back down into a bored expression. “What do you think? Everyone here’s allied with Adachi,” he reminded, like Iwaizumi wasn’t aware of the _technicality_. 

“I’m not talking about _everyone_. I asked about you,” he pressed. 

Tendou laughed loudly, humming to himself for a few moments, head shaking back and forth in amusement. Iwaizumi had to remind himself not to get too worked up because that was just the way Tendou Satori was. He did what he wanted, _when_ he wanted. As long as Iwaizumi had him on his side though, he was good because if there was one thing Tendou wasn’t, that was fickle. 

“Well you know, technically my store belongs to Adachi too, but I do what I want,” he answered honestly. 

Iwaizumi nodded, happy with the response. “Good, because I’m going to ask you for a favour that requires breaking your alliance,” he smiled wryly. 

Tendou smirked. “What alliance?” he answered easily. Iwaizumi looked around the dimly lit stockroom once more. Tendou caught his paranoia, saying, “No one’s going to come in here, relax.” 

Iwaizumi huffed slightly, folding his arms over his chest. “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard of what happened to Datekou,” he started. Tendou nodded. “Adachi and Hirata are trying to do that with every individual group in Taito and Chuo – they want an all out war with no in between so they can control the wards themselves. We can’t have that.” 

“We?” Tendou asked amusedly. 

“Yeah, _we_ ,” Iwaizumi repeated firmly. “If one of those two clans take over, they’ll do a wipe of everyone and start from scratch. We’ll both lose whatever reputation we’ve built up,” he reminded. 

Tendou seemed to think over the proposition for a few moments before yielding. “You’re annoyingly stubborn,” he said through an eye roll.

“And you hate losing to new people,” Iwaizumi retorted. 

“You got me there,” Tendou laughed, nodding his head in agreement. “I bet you this is all the new recruits, thinking they need to _show_ their influence. As if the money isn’t enough for them,” he said bitterly. “Alright, what do you need from me?” he resigned, breaking away from his personal thoughts. 

“Watch the docks. You know Adachi brings in his stocks here and conceals them between stores but there has to be _one_ that’s the biggest, except no one seems to know where that is,” he raised his eyebrows. Tendou shook his head to confirm that he didn’t know where Adachi kept all his weapons stored either. “All you need to do is figure out the location. My team will take care of the rest,” he promised. 

Tendou hummed, tapping his chin pensively. “This goes without saying but my involvement –” 

“No one will know a thing,” Iwaizumi promised. “And of course you’ll be paid as well,” he added. 

“Good,” Tendou agreed. “I’ll see what I can do. You’re gonna handle Hirata yourself?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agreed. “If you need anything, you know how to reach me.” 

“Hmm,” Tendou said disinterestedly. “Now since you’re already here and wasted some of my time, you’re going to have to buy something,” he cackled, predatory grin kicking in. 

Iwaizumi shook his head, a small smile on his face as he followed Tendou out of the stock room and towards the left wall of the store that had the worst – and probably best – selection of fish jerky. He personally hated the taste, but Bokuto loved it so he figured he wasn’t going to be wasting money if he picked some up. 

His smile fell though when he saw Oikawa staring at the selection on the wall as well, right hand tucked under his chin thoughtfully. Iwaizumi could only see his profile, but he still looked good; aviators perched on top of his head, thin temples buried into his hair, light wash jeans, a grey t-shirt with a red and black plaid t-shirt tied around his waist, and white sneakers. 

He thought about leading Tendou to the bottles of Kusaya hidden between the two closely placed aisles and maybe busy himself by ducking down to the lowest shelf instead, but before he could, Oikawa caught sight of them in his peripheral vision and turned around. It was a little gratifying to see the way Oikawa's eyes widened, if entirely humiliating because he stepped forward just as quickly, small smile on his face. 

“Hello, Iwa-chan,” he greeted like he _hadn’t_ been ignoring Iwaizumi for three days. 

Tendou choked on his own spit at Oikawa's greeting. Iwaizumi found himself torn between anger and relief, because at least Oikawa didn’t seem to _hate him_ – even though the lack of communication from him indicated that. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, when Iwaizumi didn’t respond. 

“I live here,” he said seriously. 

Oikawa's lips twitched at the answer. “You live _here_?” he repeated, eyebrows raised in amusement. That’s not what Iwaizumi had meant – he lived in Tsukiji not the damn fish market or this store – but the way Oikawa was biting his lower lip, trying not to laugh aloud reminded Iwaizumi that Oikawa knew _exactly_ what he was asking. 

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi cursed. “That’s not what I – why didn’t you call or text me?” he frowned, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get his mind off the thought if he didn’t get an answer from Oikawa about it first.

“Aww, were you worried?” Oikawa asked sweetly, but his eyes _screamed_ mischief. 

Tendou had apparently had enough of standing to the side. He leaned his left arm against the wall at the end of the display and cocked his head at Oikawa. “What’s this?” he asked, wagging a finger between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. “I didn’t know you two were acquainted that _closely_.” The grin on his face widened with every word. 

“We’re not,” Iwaizumi answered stiffly. “Hold on, you know Oikawa?” 

“ _You_ know, Oikawa? I can’t believe you’ve been keeping secrets like this from me, _Iwa-chan_ ,” he repeated, voice a teasing jibe on the border of torment. 

“He’s Semi’s ex,” Oikawa clarified before Iwaizumi could think of a scenario that would allow Oikawa and Tendou to know one another. “Hello, Tendou,” he greeted finally. 

“Ah, so now you decide to acknowledge me. Do I need to remind you that you’re in _my_ store?” he quirked a challenging brow. 

“I don’t like you,” Oikawa bristled. 

“Well,” Tendou grinned slyly. “Iwa-chan likes me, and _you_ like Iwa-chan so you’ll have to like me too.” 

He slung an arm around Iwaizumi's shoulder, tugging him into Tendou’s side. Iwaizumi shrugged the arm off immediately, growling at the use of that stupid nickname, which he had only allowed Oikawa to call him because, well, he didn’t know _why_ , but it sounded fine coming from him. When Tendou said it however, it just sounded like a blatant insult. 

“I don’t like him either,” Oikawa answered easily. Iwaizumi whipped his head up at Oikawa at the answer. He frowned, but Oikawa didn’t seem to have noticed him – or maybe he was ignoring him. “Where’s the cheese flavoured jerky that Semi likes?” 

“What? You dating him now?” Tendou teased. 

“Don’t be gross,” he wrinkled his nose. “But if you want to know about his life so badly, maybe you should call him,” he reminded not so flippantly. 

Tendou rolled his eyes but made a gesture that looked like ‘wait here’ while he returned to the back. Iwaizumi was very aware that without Tendou’s presence, this was the first time he had been alone with Oikawa since he had showed up at his apartment in the hopes of apologizing. 

That had not been a well-thought out plan, in retrospect, but Oikawa didn’t seem to care about that, anyway, if the way he was picking at the hem of the shirt tied around his waist was any indication. He looked just as awkward about being there as Iwaizumi felt, which came as both a relief and a hindrance. 

“You’re feeling better?” Iwaizumi asked awkwardly. 

“You care?” Oikawa shot back, tone as indifferent as it had been three nights ago when he called Iwaizumi and had said the same thing at Iwaizumi's concern.

He was guarded – something that Iwaizumi realized _now_. It didn’t stop Iwaizumi from thinking he was still a douchebag, but the way he had gotten so protective of his image, of his reputation, of the people Iwaizumi judged him for hanging around. There were a lot of things people said about someone – most of them rumours – and watching Oikawa put up a wall right in front of him reminded Iwaizumi that there was a _lot_ he didn’t know about the man standing before him. 

He wasn’t snappy because he wanted to be – he must have had a reason and as much as Iwaizumi wanted to race Oikawa to hopefully have him see reason and accept the job Iwaizumi was offering him, he also wanted to know just _why_ Oikawa was so guarded in the first place. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. Oikawa didn’t seem to believe him. 

He narrowed his eyes, searching for some kind of a sign of lying on Iwaizumi's face. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he shook his head, dropping his arms to the side. “I guess,” he shrugged. “It must have been a twenty-four hours cold or something,” he answered dismissively. 

“I’m glad,” he said thickly. Oikawa snorted in disbelief and Iwaizumi had to remind himself not to get angry with him. They weren’t friends; they didn’t even know one another and Iwaizumi was the one who needed something from the other man. He had to tread carefully or else he would lose the only chance he had of success. “Oikawa,” he said hesitantly. “You didn’t text me,” he reminded. 

“Yeah, I know,” Oikawa nodded. “It’s not that I forgot or was avoiding you – trust me, I would have left already if I had been – but I haven’t talked it over with Kuroo yet and I’m not going to make these kinds of decisions without him,” Oikawa answered honestly. 

Iwaizumi was taken aback by the legitimacy of his answer. He had honestly been expecting some kind of excuse but what Oikawa said didn’t sound like one. Oikawa took his momentary pause as confusion, rather than acceptance and continued his explanation. 

“Whatever I do now, affects Kuroo as well and I’m not going to drag him through the mud without his knowledge. We’re co-owners of our garage, which is our life’s legacy, and brothers on top of that. We’ve had more than enough trouble already so if he says no then I’m sorry but I won’t race you,” he said firmly. 

“It’s just a race,” Iwaizumi reminded. 

“Is it?” Oikawa asked seriously. “Because it’s a race with _you_ , and we all know the kind of reputation you hold.” 

It was meant as an insult, Iwaizumi was aware of this fact, but that didn’t mean he liked hearing those words either. It wasn’t like he had a _choice_ , but he couldn’t explain that to Oikawa either. 

“I get that,” Iwaizumi answered. Oikawa cocked his head challengingly. “Trust me, I do. You’re close and I take it you’ve been together for a while?” Oikawa nodded his head to confirm the question. “I have people like that too, and I wouldn’t do anything if they weren’t alright with it. I should have asked you both, I’m sorry Oikawa,” he apologized. 

Oikawa quirked his lips. “You know, you’re awfully accommodating for someone who doesn’t have a problem putting a bullet through people’s heads,” he said offhandedly. 

“I – you know – I haven’t done that in a long time,” Iwaizumi said painfully. 

“Just making an observation. Don’t get so defensive,” Oikawa said tetchily. “Anyway, Kuroo's across the street and lucky for you, no Tsukishima to weigh in on his decisions. So feel free to go talk to him or you can wait for me and we can go together,” he offered with a half-hearted shrug. 

Iwaizumi nodded, unsure which of the two options he was agreeing to. Oikawa seemed to find his response amusing. He bit at his bottom lip to prevent himself for laughing aloud, but Iwaizumi knew what the action meant. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Every time Oikawa looked at him, it was like he was dissecting him. His eyes were clear and full of so much passion – they were brown, the colour of so many other eyes but something about them was different. 

It was only when he was this close to the other man without any obvious animosity tearing them down did Iwaizumi realize how much emotion Oikawa's eyes held. He had no doubt that they could be kind and gentle when they wanted to be, but also piercing and firm. The way Oikawa was staring at him right now looked like a mix of both, and Iwaizumi was overcome with that feeling of déjà vu every time he seemed to be in Oikawa's company. 

But that was just the fantasies that had sparked in his brain talking. Yeah, Oikawa was attractive, but he was also strong and independent – the kind of person Iwaizumi knew he could find himself getting attached to, which was a dangerous thought all on its own. 

Maybe that’s why he was so determined to quench whatever lust that filled his veins every time he saw Oikawa, heard his voice, or even _thought_ about him. Because Iwaizumi knew that if Oikawa ever returned even an inkling of actual interest, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from falling for the asshole and his merciless personality. 

Tendou returned, saving Iwaizumi and Oikawa from falling into another awkward silence. He handed Oikawa a packet of disgusting looking fish jerky, that Oikawa agreed looked terrible, if the way his nose wrinkled was anything to go by. He moved to pay, but Tendou shook his head, and smiled in Iwaizumi's direction lecherously. 

“I’ll have Iwa-chan pay double,” he grinned. 

“Stop calling me that,” Iwaizumi growled, shoving at Tendou’s shoulder, hard. 

“Ooh,” Oikawa cooed. Iwaizumi knew whatever he’d say next was going to be annoying even before Oikawa continued. The way his eyes shined with mirth was a good enough indication. “This feels almost like a date,” he smirked. 

Iwaizumi flushed. He wasn’t sure he could take Oikawa's blatant flirting that was obviously meant to rile him up for much longer without shoving him against the wall and kissing him until he shut up. Thankfully, he was saved from doing something that brash by Tendou’s laughter. 

“You need to go on a real date,” he laughed, ringing up Oikawa's jerky and adding a few more teriyaki flavoured ones for Iwaizumi in the process. 

“Yeah, well, who’s got the time?” he sighed flippantly. 

“Well, then maybe a good fuck,” Tendou said bluntly. Iwaizumi coughed awkwardly as he tried to choke back the spit in his mouth at the crude comment. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to this kind of language – he just didn’t like that it was used in reference to Oikawa. So sue him for being a little jealous.

Oikawa paused, turning his head to look at Iwaizumi carefully. “Not interested. The last time I did that the guy was so drunk he forgot I existed.” 

Iwaizumi couldn’t tell why Oikawa was speaking to him instead of Tendou who had asked the question, but the way his eyes were boring holes into Iwaizumi’s own made him feel like he should say something. “You’re pretty memorable.” 

Oikawa laughed aloud at that, something close to disbelief rather than actual amusement. “You’re funny,” he said eventually, ignoring Iwaizumi's flush and taking the bag Tendou handed to him over the counter instead. “Let’s go before Kuroo figures out I left him alone to fight with the fisherman on what breed is the _best_ fish,” he rolled his eyes. 

“Say hi to Semi for me,” Tendou grinned, waving brightly. 

“Not likely,” Oikawa said over his shoulder, throwing his hand up in a short wave. 

Iwaizumi was caught between that feeling of euphoria and distress again. He wasn’t sure if he should have been grateful that he hadn’t run into Oikawa in all this time they seemed to have mutual acquaintances, or regretful. The way he found his eyes lingering down the length of Oikawa's spine as the man walked a few paces in front of him however, Iwaizumi was leaning more towards grateful. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to restrain himself if he had been around Oikawa for too long.

* * *

Kuroo had been surprisingly accommodating about the whole thing, even going so far as to say that it sounded like fun. Oikawa had reminded his friend what the stakes were, but Kuroo had said in a very serious voice that he didn’t expect Oikawa to lose so whatever the stakes were didn’t matter to him. 

Oikawa had never felt his heart swell up in pride as much as it had when Kuroo told him that. Iwaizumi hadn’t looked very impressed, but he didn’t say anything else about the topic, thanking Kuroo and wishing them both a good day before taking his leave. 

_[Subject: location for tonight]_  
To: Iwa-chan  
>> 6-chome, near the stairs that lead to the Arakawa River bridge  
>> 11 pm 

_[Subject: location for tonight]_  
From: Iwa-chan  
>> can I bring anyone? 

_[Subject: location for tonight]_  
To: Iwa-chan  
>> yeah but not too many  
>> it’s only gonna be Tetsu and Tsukki there besides me  
>> maybe Yahaba 

_[Subject: location for tonight]_  
From: Iwa-chan  
>> I’ll see you tonight 

He hadn’t responded to that last message, but Oikawa would have been lying if he said he hadn’t stared at it every five seconds for the rest of the day. The logical part of his brain was telling him to stay as far away from Iwaizumi Hajime as possible, and yet, there was this pull around him. 

He was dangerous, he was _trouble_ , and he only wanted Oikawa for his _own_ needs, yet Oikawa couldn’t help but get pulled into his orbit. He was cocky and confident, and while those were qualities Oikawa often liked in a person because they meant good leadership, they were also the things he hated the most about Iwaizumi. 

Because he _knew_ what he could do – he was aware of his reputation and how people would give him what he wanted because of it. Oikawa hadn’t seen him abuse his power, which just made him wonder what was really up with the other man. He _seemed_ like a decent guy, hell he had even come to apologize after being an asshole, but Oikawa couldn’t look past all the evidence that proved Iwaizumi was a problem. 

He had not so casually asked Semi what the other man knew about Iwaizumi two days ago. He figured he had to size up the competition. Semi had given him a confused look, probably wondering why Oikawa was coming to _him_ when it seemed like Iwaizumi and Oikawa were close enough for Oikawa to have asked the other man directly; but they weren’t. 

Eventually, Semi had given in, giving him the rundown of Iwaizumi and his crew. Kyoutani, while he seemed to like Oikawa just fine was guarded and loyal to a fault, which Oikawa could appreciate but it _had_ been difficult to get him to give up any information that wasn’t superficial. So Semi’s half-assed knowledge of Iwaizumi was everything Oikawa had to go off of; it should have scared him, what Semi told him, but it only made him wonder just _why_ Iwaizumi was so interested in him in the first place. 

As far as Oikawa could tell, Iwaizumi was a good enough driver and mechanic on his own. He had friends, he had _connections_ , and he had certainly been getting by in life just fine all this time without Oikawa's help. 

He wasn’t stupid; he knew there was a bigger task at play here, and a part of him was curious but another part of him was determined to end whatever the fuck was going on between them once and for all. Racing Iwaizumi was going to be a challenge, but _when_ Oikawa beat him, Iwaizumi would have no choice but to back off. 

Iwaizumi was a lot of things, but Oikawa could recognize the pride in his voice, in his actions, in the way he held himself – he wasn’t the type of person to beg. The only way for Oikawa to guarantee Iwaizumi would leave him alone was to take him on directly. 

He was confident in his driving, but that didn’t stop Oikawa from feeling nervous all the same. That squirming feeling that had been pooling in his gut ever since that afternoon when he ran into Iwaizumi had only magnified throughout the day. And at that very moment, as Oikawa drove out to the south end of the ward, towards the border of Koto-ku and Chuo-ku, that pooling nervousness had solidified into a rock – hard, heavy, and completely unyielding. 

Oikawa couldn’t help but think that it was fitting for the situation – Iwaizumi seemed to be those exact things, which should have made him feel more anxious but somehow, it was _that_ thought that managed to cool him down a little. 

He tapped his index finger against the leather wrap of the steering wheel, his hands making a dull thud – it was the only noise that separated him from reality; his right hand rested on top of the gearshift. The blue lights that lit up the dashboard and the rest of the buttons inside the car kept Oikawa awake – even the city lights outside weren’t helping him from losing himself at this point. 

The Arakawa River was always peaceful, although the neighbourhood that it ran through in Koto-ku wasn’t the nicest of places. Still, the narrow alleys, the rundown buildings and the people who liked to watch but keep their mouths shut made it the perfect spot for an impromptu race. 

10:50 pm. There were still 10 minutes left until he was supposed to meet Iwaizumi, but the last thing he wanted to do was be late for a race _he_ had set up. 

Oikawa quickly checked his rear view mirror, noticing that Kuroo and Tsukishima were right behind him, Tsukishima driving his black and orange Mitsubishi Eclipse with Kuroo in the passenger seat; they had decided that the fewer cars, the easier it would be to scatter since this wasn’t an abandoned area and sometimes police were called into the neighbourhood to deal with matters unrelated to them. 

He turned left into a side street, the clothing lines hanging between the two brick buildings blocking some of the view. A pair of pants fell across his windshield, making him drive blind for a few seconds but soon bounced off, clearing his line of sight once more. There were trashcans scattered along the buildings walls, rattling against the brick from the passing breeze of his car, half of the contents littering the dirty tarmac; stray dogs – some that barked and others that whimpered as Oikawa drove by in his silver Nissan GTR R35. 

He rarely took his GTR out, but situations like this one caused a need for it. The car had teal painted tire marks starting at the front wheel, stair casing up until covered the entirety of the back door on both sides of the car. The spoiler at the back had been added later to help with the drag when Oikawa decided to exchange the Nissan Skyline GTR for the newer model as a replacement for racing. 

It was probably his best car – the one he loved the most and had put in a lot of work for apart from the Celica but racing Iwaizumi meant he needed to bring out all his ammo. Especially when Oikawa knew Iwaizumi's taste resided in the muscle cars so if he couldn’t beat him with the engine strength alone, he’d have to make do with technique. 

As the buildings cleared, Oikawa turned left once again onto an open stretch of road separating the Adachi River bridge from the housing on the opposite side. The river was blocked off with fencing to prevent anyone from jumping in, and a wide dirt road was added as an extra precaution; it was a discreet enough starting spot. 

Oikawa wasn’t surprised to see that Iwaizumi hadn’t arrived yet. He stalled his car in neutral off to the side, before getting out and walking over to Tsukishima’s Eclipse. 

“Remind me again why we’re here?” Tsukishima asked, the exasperation obvious in his tone of voice. He had lowered his window, which Oikawa took advantage of as he leaned down and placed his folded arms across the sill. 

“You know _why_ ,” Oikawa rolled his eyes. “You think he’ll show?” he asked, nodding his head over to Kuroo behind Tsukishima. 

“Obviously,” Kuroo replied immediately. “He looked kind of desperate, but besides that I think he’d show up to anything involving you,” he grinned, cocking an amused eyebrow at Oikawa. 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Oikawa bristled, fighting the blush that was threatening to take over his face. 

“But the feeling’s mutual, right?” Kuroo asked knowingly, grin growing wider with every second that passed. “Considering you dressed up even though this is such a back alley deal kind of event. You don’t have to care around him, and yet you _do_.”

Oikawa looked down at his clothes self-consciously for half a second before looking back up to glare in Kuroo's direction. “I did _not_ dress up,” he said defiantly. 

Still, he knew Kuroo was right: he was wearing his nice Nikes again – the ones that were all black, a pair of fitted black jeans, a grey crewneck and a sea foam green bomber jacket on top. He was lucky that the blush heating up his face wasn’t as visible with the black face mask covering everything from his nose down. 

“Whatever, I don’t care if you think he’s good looking or not,” Tsukishima cut in, sending Kuroo a piercing gaze that made the grin fall right off his face before turning his attention back to Oikawa. “Everyone knows you’re attractive – _so what_ if he thinks you’re good looking. Don’t do anything stupid,” Tsukishima warned.

Ah, the voice of reason. Too bad Oikawa had already _done something stupid_ where it concerned Iwaizumi. He nodded though to show his understanding. Sometimes, Oikawa wondered how he and Kuroo would have gotten by without Tsukishima, especially in the past few months where he had been more than just a beam of support. He had done everything to keep them grounded, and Oikawa wasn’t sure he could ever repay Tsukki for that kindness. 

Whatever conversation might have ensued was cut short by the arrival of Iwaizumi and his friends. Oikawa pushed himself back from Tsukishima’s car, straightening up as he looked ahead of him. The headlights were blinding but Iwaizumi turned his off when he noticed Oikawa standing at the end of the road. 

Kuroo and Tsukishima got out of the car at the sound of the new cars, both standing on either side of Oikawa with their arms crossed. Kuroo was wearing an amused expression but Tsukishima looked completely nonplussed. Oikawa knew Tsukki had to go to work early the next day – when he wasn’t bartending, he waited tables at a small American diner – but he had still made time to come out tonight. 

He had gone to school for culinary art, but finding jobs for his level of talent was difficult. Oikawa knew that his dream was to start his own small diner, but the financial burden of their trials had put a dent in his plans, which Oikawa felt immensely guilty for. 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi greeted, stalling his car next to Oikawa's before getting out to greet him. “Kuroo, Tsukishima,” he added, addressing the other two. 

Oikawa hated himself for letting his eyes linger on Iwaizumi's arms, specifically the black ink that lined his left bicep and trailed up to his shoulder blade as Oikawa knew all too well. The fierce looking koi surrounded by a water lily was soft and meaningful at the same time. It indicated a lot about Iwaizumi's character – his strength and self-preservation – but more than that, it made Oikawa wanted to trace the lines with the pads of his fingers. 

“Iwaizumi,” he said stiffly. 

“Afraid you’re going to lose?” Iwaizumi smirked, noticing Oikawa's hesitancy. 

“No way,” Oikawa shook his head, loosening up a little at the teasing. “Who’d you bring with you?” he asked instead, nodding his head behind Iwaizumi. 

“Kyoutani and Bokuto. I don’t think you’ve met Bokuto,” he frowned, calling over to the black and silver-haired man sitting behind the wheel of a blue Acura NSX. 

“What’s up?” Bokuto asked. 

Iwaizumi introduced them. Kyoutani came out a few moments later feeling a little bit left out. He did complain when Oikawa thumped his back a little too hard and called him ‘Kyouken-chan’ but he wasn’t as pissy as he usually was. Tsukishima for the most part kept quiet, which Oikawa was surprised about but he supposed it had to do with the way Kuroo was whispering in his ear about something or another. 

“What are the stakes?” Bokuto asked looking between Iwaizumi and Oikawa curiously. 

“You didn’t tell them?” Oikawa quirked his lips up thoughtfully. 

Iwaizumi flushed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand sheepishly. Oikawa hated how his eyes immediately landed on his flexing muscle, which thankfully Iwaizumi hadn’t seen with the way he was looking at Bokuto. 

“I win – Oikawa listens to why _we_ need him,” he said pointedly. 

“And if Oikawa wins?” Kyoutani pressed. 

“You leave me alone,” Oikawa answered. “And my friends,” he nodded to both Kuroo and Tsukishima who had moved up a little and were standing directly behind Oikawa instead. 

Kyoutani grumbled. “That’s fucking stupid.” He didn’t bother to mask his annoyance. 

Oikawa snorted at the less than enthusiastic answer coming from the person he didn’t expect it to. “You can still talk to me since I know you think I’m great – Suga-chan told me courtesy of your other friend, what’s his name, Daichi?” Oikawa asked, waving his hand dismissively. “Just don’t ask me to help you out with whatever ploy you have cooking,” he said firmly. 

“Kyoutani, drop it,” Iwaizumi said sternly before the younger man could protest. Oikawa could see the ferocity in Kyoutani’s eyes battling with his loyalty. In the end, he stepped back to show his respect for Iwaizumi's decision. “What’s the plan?” Iwaizumi asked. 

“Rainbow Bridge,” Kuroo answered from behind Oikawa. “It gives you and Oikawa an equal chance considering you’re used to the freeways and the dirt road here is designed for drifting,” he explained. “How you make it to the bridge is up to you, but drive across it from Koto-ku to Minato-ku before coming up at the by the docks behind the Shibaura futsal building. You know where that is?” 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi nodded. “You’ve got someone there?” 

“To the north east side of the dock. Yahaba will be waiting for both of you,” Kuroo continued. Kyoutani perked up at the mention of Yahaba but otherwise remained still. “Any questions?” Oikawa and Iwaizumi shook their heads. “Rules?” he clarified. 

“Don’t get caught,” Iwaizumi and Oikawa repeated in sync.

“Now we’re talking,” Kuroo beamed. “Line up by the lamp post. The rest of us will meet you there,” he said walking up to the makeshift starting line. 

Oikawa gave Iwaizumi a pointed stare, silently asking him if he wanted to back out. Iwaizumi shook his head firmly, offering Oikawa a small, amused smile before he turned back to his car. Oikawa did the same, shutting the door behind him with a satisfying smack. He breathed deeply a few times, calming himself with that smell of _car_ : the leather seats, the gasoline, the faint smell of lacquer. 

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool steering wheel for a few seconds before snapping them open, focused and determined. Nothing else mattered anymore except winning. 

Iwaizumi had already pulled up to the starting line by the time Oikawa brought his car there, shifting it to neutral once again as he pressed down on the gas pedal, revving the engine and getting it ready for when Kuroo initiated the race. 

Kuroo looked towards Iwaizumi who nodded before looking towards Oikawa. Oikawa pulled the mask down to rest under his chin so he could breathe in the smell that grounded him better before nodding at Kuroo as well. 

“See you at the finish line!” Kuroo called, bringing both hands down with a wicked grin. 

Oikawa didn’t need to think for a second longer. As soon as the words were out of Kuroo's mouth, it was like his body had a mind of its own. The feeling was all too familiar as he released his foot from the clutch, waiting for the exact moment he could feel the slight push-back against his leg to give the car gas and speed off. 

He didn’t need to look to his left to know Iwaizumi had done the same thing. The streets were narrow in Arakawa, especially in the outskirts where they were. Starting off in the lead wasn’t going to call the race but it would be a good opportunity to show Iwaizumi just what he was made of. With the way they were both speeding off along the riverbank at the same time though, Oikawa knew it wasn’t going to be an easy feat to pull up first, especially when Iwaizumi wasn’t giving him any room to throw the other man off the trail. 

With the oncoming brick wall cutting off to the side – their only route to getting out of this dark neighbourhood, Oikawa knew one of them had to move aside. It would have been stupid to use his nitrous oxide now – he only had enough for one boost, which was all that he _would_ need. 

He looked to his left, giving Iwaizumi a pointed glare as the man turned to meet Oikawa's gaze, expression hard and unreadable. But then his lips twitched in a small smile and Oikawa swore under his breath. He wasn’t going to be the first to move out of the way and somehow, he had a feeling that Iwaizumi wasn’t going to budge either. 

With the wall approaching quicker with every second that passed, one of them would have to or else they’d both crash. There was only enough space for one car to fit narrowly; certainly not two. 

 _Five seconds_. 

Oikawa turned to his left once again, but this time Iwaizumi didn’t turn to meet his gaze. He had one hand gripped firmly on the steering wheel, eyes determined and focused on the road ahead. At the speed they were going, the crash wasn’t going to give them a few scratches here and there; they’d be lucky to make it out of there as anything but dead. 

 _Two seconds_. 

Oikawa's eyes flickered down to the speedometer quickly – as if _seeing_ what was going to happen would prevent the accident. The brick walls were closing in fast and if he was going to act, it had to be _now_. 

 _One second_.

In that moment, Oikawa decided that the only person who could maybe give him a run for his money in the stubborn department was Iwaizumi Hajime. He cursed, releasing the clutch slowly before shifting down, falling into line right behind Iwaizumi's Road Runner, grazing the side with his front bumper in the process. He shifted up again as soon as he was safely cruising along the narrow alleyway. 

“ _Motherfucker_ ,” Oikawa cursed, gritting his teeth in anger. 

This man had to be nuts. Either that, or he was so confident in the fact that Oikawa would move out of the way to save both of them that he hadn’t even _flinched_ at the approaching brick wall. The second option pissed Oikawa off even more than the first. He bared his teeth, trying to calm himself down because maybe this was Iwaizumi's plan all along: to rile him up and throw him off of his game. 

There was no need to accelerate at this point – not until the alleyway opened up and Oikawa had a chance to gain the lead with the space that the larger streets would provide. Yet, some vindictive part of him wasn’t happy that Iwaizumi had forced his hand, and he found himself speeding up only to have his front bumper ram into Iwaizumi's back one. It didn’t really help him with the race, but it did make him feel a little better and he couldn’t help but do it a second time. 

As soon as they pulled out of the alleyway, Oikawa veered off to the left, narrowly avoiding a parked car. He and Iwaizumi were driving side by side again, but there was a turn coming up, and that was going to be Oikawa's chance to pull up. 

Iwaizumi may have been a good driver, but he didn’t know what real drifting was, having come from Chuo. He did, however know enough to get by and so Oikawa didn’t give him a big angle, cutting as close to the red, brick wall that opened up the path to the next street as possible without ruining his spoiler. 

It seemed like luck wasn’t on his side though, or maybe he wasn’t giving Iwaizumi the credit he deserved because the other man _still_ pulled up in front, barely an inch away from Oikawa. 

He cursed again, tapping his left hand impatiently against the steering wheel as they weaved through the larger city streets. The sound of cars honking, tires screeching, wind thudding against his window harshly was all lost in the bright lights of the city streets. As Koto-ku faded away into Minato-ku, the lights became brighter, the streets became busier, less rough and better paved. 

Oikawa didn’t like the _smoothness_ that he felt; it reminded him too much of the racetrack he longed to forget, but those weren’t the kinds of thoughts he needed at the moment.

Even at this hour, Rainbow Bridge was busy with commercial trucks and late night commuters. He wasn’t far behind Iwaizumi, but that didn’t mean he had a chance to get ahead either. Every time Oikawa felt like he could pull up, Iwaizumi moved his car, blocking Oikawa’s path; it was like he was reading through Oikawa's every move. Who the fuck gave him the right to do that? With every second that passed, Oikawa could feel his agitation building up. 

But he refused to just roll over and give Iwaizumi a win; it wasn’t like Oikawa to give up without having tried his hardest. Besides, he still needed to get Iwaizumi back for that stunt he pulled right in the beginning. 

Shibaura’s futsal building was right off the ramp for the exit to Minato-ku. As the kilometres ticked by and Oikawa saw the highway veer off for the exit, he knew there was only one thing he _could_ do.

Pressing down on the small button behind the gearshift, Oikawa felt the surge of nitrous oxide boost his engine, giving him the speed he needed to accelerate past Iwaizumi. The other man was already in the exiting lane, driving bumper to bumper with the tractor trailer ahead of him and theoretically, there was no space, but there was a reason Oikawa would never trade off his Nissan GTR for whatever other model was _in_. 

Flicking the suspension switch, Oikawa felt his car lower just enough for him to slip under the lifted tractor trailer, narrowly avoiding the concrete divider that separated the exiting lane from the continuing highway. He knew the race wasn’t over yet, but with only one half a kilometer left, there wasn’t much ground he needed to cover once he was off the highway. 

Knowing that Iwaizumi still had a boost he hadn’t used up yet made him antsy but he managed to hold the other man off until he pulled up to the docks, swerving to the side and screeching to a victorious halt. 

As promised, Yahaba was waiting there, leaning against the hood of his car with his arms folded across his chest and an amused expression growing wider on his face. 

“ _Yes_ ,” he beamed, moving away to bump fists with Oikawa, as he got out of his car. 

Oikawa pulled his mask down, moving in to hug Yahaba instead. “You bet on me?” he asked knowingly. 

“ _Hell yeah_ , I did,” Yahaba confirmed. 

He shot Iwaizumi an apologetic look as the man stepped out of his own car, face hard and unreadable like it usually was. He leaned over the open driver’s side window, gazing at Oikawa like he was going to say something but he never did. Oikawa raised his eyebrows, expecting some kind of a taunt, but when he didn’t receive one, he couldn’t help but find himself slightly annoyed. Fuck the fact that he _wasn’t_ a sore loser. 

“Your reputation does you justice,” he said quietly after a few beats of silence.

“And what reputation is that?” Oikawa cocked his head to the side. 

Iwaizumi smiled, but it quickly turned into a smirk. “Grand King,” he reminded. 

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be an insult or not. Before he could decipher it though, Iwaizumi leaned away from the car door, pushing off of it and rocked back on his feet once, before coming around and holding his hand out for Oikawa to shake. “You’re a good driver, and even though I lost, I can’t really say I didn’t expect it,” he said sincerely. 

“What?” Oikawa asked stupidly, taken aback by Iwaizumi's brazen statement. 

Iwaizumi chuckled, clenching his hand into a fist when Oikawa forgot to shake it. He brought it up and thumped it lightly across Oikawa's left shoulder, muttering a “See you around,” before turning away. 

Oikawa's eyes widened at the comment. “Hey, wait a minute!” he called, moving in front of Iwaizumi, effectively blocking his path. “We had a deal so there won’t be any of this ‘ _see you around_ ,’ remember?” he reminded. 

“You’re right. Call it wishful thinking then,” Iwaizumi conceded. “Thanks for the race, Oikawa,” he chuckled, pulling his hands down into the pocket of his pants. He side-stepped Oikawa, walking away before re-thinking his decision and stopping short. “You know, if you ever do decide you want to change your mind, you have my number,” he reminded gently over his shoulder. 

Oikawa grateful for the fact that Iwaizumi hadn’t turned around. If he had, Oikawa was sure he’d have seen right through his bright blush. “I’m deleting it,” Oikawa shouted as Iwaizumi got into his car and shut the door. 

Iwaizumi only smirked at him in response, his face a shining liquid silver from the way the windshield reflected the little lights surrounding the dock. Oikawa felt his breath hitch but maybe luck _was_ on his side today, because as soon as the sudden urge to want to get into Iwaizumi's car and kiss him overcame him, the other man pulled out of the small parking lot. 

Yahaba patted his shoulder once, breaking Oikawa out of his self-destructive thoughts. He pulled Oikawa to the side, urging him to recount the race, which he did until Kuroo, Tsukishima, Bokuto and Kyoutani showed up. 

“You good?” Kuroo asked, seeing right through Oikawa's smile, zeroing in on the slight nervousness that the aftermath of the race with Iwaizumi had left him with. 

“Yeah,” Oikawa nodded. “I’m good. _We’re_ good,” he elaborated breathlessly. 

He had won, more than just the race that night, and yet, Oikawa couldn’t help but feel like he had done something stupid. 

That maybe hearing Iwaizumi out wouldn’t have been such a bad thing. The way his heart stuttered at just _thinking_ about the other man though had him feeling like things had turned out just _fine_ , even if his brain hadn’t caught up to it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you who think this is the end, between Iwaizumi and Oikawa: _hell no_. don't you worry, this is just the beginning of the plot! i have lots of stuff planned for the next chapter! 
> 
> next time:  
> \- Semi has some daunting news  
> \- tension between Oikawa, Kuroo and Tsukishima
> 
> please let me know what you thought of this chapter!! was the race what you expected it to be? what do you think of Tendou's addition and the evolution of the plot involving the different clans?
> 
> your comments fuel me, i swear they do, so please leave me a little something about what you thought! ♡


	8. in the game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _look what you made me do, look what i made for you_  
>  _knew if i paid my dues, how will they pay you?_  
>  _when you first come in the game, they try to play you_  
>  _then you drop a couple of hits, look how they wave to you_  
>  \-- **numb / encore** \- jay-z  & linkin park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've had this chapter sitting in my drafts for a while but i have this fear that if i don't have another chapter completed, i will lose my motivation to write so now that i have chapter 9 complete too, i am finally posting this one! i'm so sorry for how long it's taken me, but school has really been kicking my ass lately. i spend so much time in the lab, working on my research project ;; it's only supposed to be 6 hours a week, but i spend double, if not triple the number of hours there *weeps* 
> 
> anyway, this chapter has a lot more drama and i promise that there's a reason for it, so pls don't hate me and bear with it ;; 
> 
> also, i've gotten a lot of questions about how Iwaizumi could forget his night with Oikawa and let me tell u something: alcohol can do many things to u. depending on the strength of the drink, ur mental state and how u've been eating throughout the day, ur affected differently. so yes, he did get blackout drunk, which is why he forgot. pls don't try this though lol it's not a good idea. i hope this clears up some confusion!

A week and half after Oikawa's race with Iwaizumi, Oikawa had all but forgotten about the mercenary and whatever the hell he had wanted with Oikawa in the first place. Life hadn’t gotten any better, but it also hadn’t gotten any _worse_ , which was all that Oikawa could ask for, of someone who was stuck in his position. 

Business wasn’t booming, but it was enough to keep him busy. And if he didn’t have a customer’s vehicle to work on, he had his old Celica that he could always spend a little bit of TLC on. 

Oikawa hadn’t actually expected the race with Iwaizumi to do anything for his mood, but the fact that he had _won_ against the only man who was capable of giving him a run for his money had put him in an incurably happy state for the past ten days. Kuroo had obviously noticed the bounce in Oikawa's step and the smile that started to grace his face more often than not, and while he was also happy that Oikawa had managed to show up Iwaizumi Hajime, he couldn’t help but throw in a few jibes about how it was unfortunate that Oikawa wouldn’t have an excuse to see him again. 

Kuroo was a great friend and Oikawa loved him more than anyone else in the world, but that didn’t mean that his best friend knew what was best for him. Oikawa wouldn’t deny that he _would have_ wanted to see Iwaizumi as well, if it wasn’t for the fact that the man was dangerous and carried around more trouble than Oikawa was willing to take on. 

It wasn’t even that he was hot, because he _was_ and that alone was enough to make Oikawa want to throw everything down for him, but he had a kind of resolve that was attractive on its own. His strength and his resilience reminded Oikawa a lot of himself, but it also meant that Iwaizumi wasn’t someone to be trifled with. He supposed he should have counted himself lucky that the man had forgotten him, even if it _had_ stung. 

With a win over Iwaizumi under him though, Oikawa found himself starting to lose any animosity he held towards the other man for that forgotten one-night stand.

It wasn’t only Oikawa who was in a better mood following that race though. Tsukishima seemed to have been breathing easier as well, without another added risk threatening their livelihood. And if Tsukki was happy, that meant Kuroo was in an irreplaceably good mood as well. Oikawa didn’t want to know the _specifics_ but he had known the two long enough to be able to guess why Kuroo had walked into the garage with a happy grin every single morning that week and why Tsukishima had come to visit them with lunch and a happy blush on his face as well. 

Oikawa had honestly believed life was starting to fall into a rhythm, albeit a somewhat boring one, once again. He couldn’t go out as much as he would have liked to with the police presence still hounding them, but he had no reason to believe that they wouldn’t leave him alone eventually. 

The optimism was unfounded though, because only a week and half after thinking that maybe life hadn’t dealt him such a bad hand after all, comparatively at any rate, Semi dropped in at the garage, white as a ghost, trembling in rage and sporting a nasty bruise that covered the left side of his face. 

Oikawa knew that Semi wasn’t stupid; he would never have come to the garage in the middle of the day and risked people seeing him there if it wasn’t important. That was the only thing that stopped him from throwing his wrench on the ground and giving Semi a matching bruise on the right side of his face. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” Oikawa gawked, taken aback by the sight. “Wait, don’t answer that here. Did anyone see you?” he hissed as an afterthought, because as much as he cared for Semi’s well-being, he didn’t want to go through any more shit with the police. 

“No, the cops sitting outside went on their lunch break or got called away or something. I dunno, but I waited for them to leave, I _swear_ no one saw me,” he confirmed.

Oikawa nodded, accepting Semi’s words as the truth. He kind of wished that Kuroo hadn’t gone out for lunch with Tsukishima, but this was the only day during the entire week that Tsukki got a whole two hours break between his jobs and so Kuroo had decided that they should do something special.

“Let’s get out of prying eyes,” he jerked his head to the back office where his and Kuroo's desks were for Semi to wait in.

While the other man walked towards the office, Oikawa pulled down the large garage door that led out to the open streets. The rattling of the chain pulling down the metal door was one that he was used to, but this time, the sound didn’t bring him any comfort; rather an uneasiness surrounded him as he locked the doors to make sure no one else would be getting in either. Kuroo wouldn’t be back for another hour, but he had a key. Oikawa could only hope that whatever trouble Semi had gotten himself into didn’t come looking for him here. 

He shot Kuroo a quick message to warn him to stay out until Oikawa was sure he wouldn’t be ambushed on his way back before he walked into the office. Semi had sat himself on the small couch on the wall opposite his and Kuroo's desks, conveniently located right between the two. He was tapping his foot against the greying carpet agitatedly, which wasn’t a good sign. Oikawa cocked his head to take in the size of his bruise, locking that door behind him as he entered too, before moving to the freezer and grabbing an ice pack. 

“Here,” he tossed the ice to Semi who caught it easily, bringing his hand up to immediately ice the bruising skin.

Oikawa moved to sit on the chair facing his desk, turning it around so he could see eye to eye with Semi instead. “What the fuck happened?” he repeated, now that they were locked in the privacy of the office. 

“Sakusa,” Semi spat bitterly. 

“Kiyoomi?” Oikawa narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“Do you know any other Sakusa?” he challenged. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Oikawa cursed, panic starting to rise in his throat.

That was one name he did not want to hear again. Sakusa Kiyoomi had first come to Oikawa when Semi had fallen off the grid, urging him to just _play it cool_ , when the cops came to visit him. At the time, Oikawa hadn’t thought much of it because who the fuck was this guy, anyway, and why was he acting so cryptic? 

The next thing Oikawa knew though, the cops _were_ visiting him and accusing him and Kuroo of running an illegal drug smuggling business. That was the one day he hadn’t immediately checked the stocks that had been delivered, and unfortunately for him, it was also the same day that Semi’s – or well, _Sakusa’s_ – shipment of cocaine had arrived.

“Yeah, _fuck_ ,” Semi repeated. “Look, I didn’t go looking for him,” he added before Oikawa could get any thoughts. “I didn’t even think he knew I was back, I _swear_ I haven’t been hanging around any of my old crew,” he promised 

“I believe you,” Oikawa confirmed, surprised by his own conclusion. 

But as the fearful look on Semi’s face washed away into one of relief, Oikawa knew he had said the right thing. Semi wasn’t the kind of guy who could be scared easily, and the fact that he was more worried about _Oikawa's_ opinion of him rather than the fight he had obviously just gotten into meant more to him than he realized it could. 

“Good, because there’s a lot more shit I have to tell you that you’re going to have to believe as well,” he grimaced. “Swear you won’t go looking for Sakusa on your own though,” he asked before he divulged any information. 

Oikawa rolled his eyes at Semi’s show of concern. “I may hate the guy but I’m not stupid. He’s yakuza and we already know what kind of shit they’re capable of,” he spat bitterly. “Tell me what he wants. You wouldn’t be here if it didn’t involve me,” he sighed knowingly. 

Semi nodded half-heartedly. “You know the drug smuggling business he had been trying to get you, _us_ , to unknowingly set up for him?”

Oikawa snorted. How could he have _forgotten_ the single occurrence that had threatened to ruin his entire life? Losing his professional career? That hadn’t been a problem because Oikawa hadn’t been all that focused on the _career_ as much as the job. Losing his life’s work? That was a completely different story. 

“Sorry, stupid question,” Semi apologized sheepishly, ducking his head down for a few seconds before slowly lifting it up and meeting Oikawa's gaze once more. “That was only the beginning. Apparently, the syndicates that have a hold over Chuo-ku and Taito-ku are thinking of expanding and guess who’s next,” he laughed bitterly. 

The mention of Chuo and Taito made Oikawa's heart beat faster in anticipation. Somehow, he had a feeling that Iwaizumi was involved. His aversion to being called yakuza struck out to Oikawa now that Semi was laying things into perspective; combined with what Oikawa already knew about Iwaizumi's history, he could feel the bitter sting of realization hitting every nerve in his body. 

“How… how do you _know this_?” Oikawa whispered, voice coming out shaky despite his best efforts to maintain his composure. 

“He cornered me, that’s fucking _how_ ,” Semi swore. “I was coming back home from work; I guess he knew that I was living with you because he cornered me two blocks from your apartment. It was too convenient to just be a coincidence. I’m sorry, Oikawa,” he apologized guiltily. 

Oikawa waved off the apology, eager to hear the rest of the story. 

“He wanted me back, but knowing that we were on good terms seemed to have worked to his advantage. He asked me to come back to his gang; I said ‘no’. He told me to convince you as well, which I said ‘no’ to again and he didn’t seem to like that very much,” he laughed bitterly pointing to his bruised jaw. 

“You’re so stupid,” Oikawa shook his head, clenching his jaw in anger. 

“ _What_?” Semi asked, shocked by his answer. 

“You should have fucking _left_ the moment you knew what he wanted with you, you fucking moron!” he shouted. “Go back to where you were hiding out the first time and don’t you dare tell me where that is!” he threatened angrily. 

“Are _you_ fucking stupid?” Semi shot back, getting to his feet in an attempt to gain some leverage. 

Oikawa stood up almost as soon as Semi had, squaring off with the other man. The chair he was on clashed against the wooden desk, but the sound went unnoticed through the piercing glare Semi and Oikawa were throwing at one another. 

“I’m not a fucking coward,” he said angrily. “I fucked up once, but I’m not about to screw you over again. You may not have asked me to, but you stood by me even when I didn’t deserve it; I won’t let you down again,” he promised, bringing his hand up in a fist and thumping it affectionately in the middle of Oikawa's chest – right against his rapidly beating heart. 

“Semi,” Oikawa choked out. “Don’t be stupid, leave Koto; fuck, leave _Tokyo_. Go anywhere else, you idiot,” he pleaded. Oikawa's whole life was in Tokyo but Semi could leave and re-start somewhere else. “If you don’t have somewhere to go, I can set you up with someone in Osaka,” he compromised. “It’s not the nicest of places but you’ll be away from Sakusa; he can’t threaten you there.” 

Semi shook his head defiantly. “I’m not going anywhere. I know you, and you’re not going to let Sakusa do whatever the fuck he wants to your home, to your friends, to your _family_ ,” Semi insisted. “And whatever you plan to do, you’re going to need me. You might have the brains and the talent, but I know where to get the information,” he raised his eyebrow challengingly. 

Oikawa buried his face in his hands, contemplating Semi’s offer. He knew exactly what he had to do; he needed to go see Iwaizumi and somehow manage to _not_ beg him to hear him out. He couldn’t deny that Semi’s added help would be greatly appreciated. Still, he had no qualms about asking Iwaizumi for his aid; he wasn’t anyone important to Oikawa. Semi on the other hand was his student; he felt a duty to _look after him_ , so how could he even _think about_ throwing him into a dangerous situation? 

“Oikawa, don’t do this,” Semi said knowingly. “If you don’t agree to let me help, I’m going to do it on my own, anyway. I’m already overstaying at your apartment and I have no problem leaving now if you don’t want me to get involved. I’m letting you know though, that with or without your cooperation I _will_ try and stop Sakusa,” he said, face hard and firm. 

Semi wasn’t the most stubborn of people, but when he got that look of determination on his face, Oikawa knew there wasn’t a single person who could sway him otherwise.

“We’re going to make Sakusa regret messing with us in the first place,” Oikawa announced harshly. 

Semi let out a shaky smile, pleased with Oikawa's answer. “You’ve got a plan, don’t you?” he asked curiously. 

“I might, but let’s not get our hopes up yet. Still, it’s good to have you back,” he joked, returning the affectionate bump against the middle of Semi’s chest. 

“I missed you too,” Semi answered honestly, reading between the lines. 

Oikawa grunted but didn’t correct the statement. “Stay here, I’ve got some calls I need to make,” he instructed, stepping away before Semi could protest. 

Surprisingly, Semi didn’t voice any complaints. He nodded abidingly, lifting his hand up to ice his bruised face while Oikawa figured out how he wanted to approach Iwaizumi. He also needed to let Kuroo know what was happening and give him a way out if his friend wanted one, but that could wait until he had concrete plans to share with him. 

Sighing, Oikawa paced the working area of the garage. He had told Iwaizumi that he was deleting his number but that was a lie. The contact name, saved begrudgingly was now burning a hole in his pocket where his phone sat uncomfortably. 

Eventually, Oikawa fished it out and hit the call button on Iwaizumi's contact number, bringing the phone up to his ear. 

After all, no amount of contemplating was going to prepare him for the conversation between them. He didn’t know how Iwaizumi was going to react to Oikawa coming to him for something after he had blatantly denied even _listening_ to his side of the story. It was a huge blow to his ego, but when it came to protecting his family, Oikawa would do anything, even if that included humiliating himself. 

* * *

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if he should have been thanking every god out there for the fact that Oikawa had actually called him, or suspicious for the very same reason. He hadn’t exactly been happy when he had lost to Oikawa, but no matter how stupidly dangerous the stunt he had pulled was, he _had_ won fair and square. 

Iwaizumi Hajime was a lot of things but a sore loser wasn’t one of them. He could give credit where credit was due, and one Oikawa Tooru definitely deserved all the hype that surrounded his name and his reputation. 

He may have respected his ability as a driver, but that didn’t mean that Iwaizumi accepted his douchey personality. Still, that didn’t mean that his heart hadn’t threatened to stop beating for a few moments when he picked up his phone and saw Oikawa's contact name flashing across his screen. 

He had been in the middle of mapping out all the known warehouses that the Adachi and Hirata clans owned when his phone rang. At first, he thought it was Bokuto or Daichi whom he had sent out to do some more digging. He had absentmindedly picked his phone up, eyes more focused on the map lying out on the desk in front of him than the device in his hand. 

Iwaizumi almost hadn’t read the caller ID, but at the last moment the character for ‘Tooru’ caught his eye and he dropped his phone on the table out of shock. 

It had been ten days since he had last seen Oikawa and while a part of him longed to see him – for the _wrong_ reason – he knew he had no need to. _Why_ Oikawa was calling him now was a mystery to him, but one that he was very willing to find to out. 

Just as quickly as Iwaizumi had dropped the phone on the wooden desk with a loud clatter, he had picked it back up, pressed the answer button and put his phone up to his ear. “Iwaizumi,” he cleared his throat, realizing his voice had come out more gravelly than he had intended for it to. 

He sincerely hoped that Oikawa couldn’t tell how surprised and nervous he sounded.

  _You picked up,”_ Oikawa laughed nervously.

“Oikawa?” he asked, even though there wasn’t anyone else who sounded like him. 

 _“Hi,”_ he said awkwardly. _“You probably weren’t expecting me to call, huh?”_  

“You could say that,” Iwaizumi answered honestly. He pushed the chair he was sitting on away from the desk, giving him more room to breathe, as if any amount of space was going to make his heart beat at a reasonable rate. 

 _“Don’t worry, this is still business not pleasure,”_ Oikawa teased. _“Or maybe I should have said_ unfortunately _,”_ he added cheekily. 

Iwaizumi flushed even though no one was there to hear their conversation. “That’s not funny,” he said gruffly. 

 _“Sorry, force of habit,”_ Oikawa apologized. 

Iwaizumi hummed in acknowledgement, as a sign for them to move on. Oikawa was silent on the other line and Iwaizumi had no idea how to proceed with the conversation. This should have been the perfect opportunity for Iwaizumi to change Oikawa's mind, but he also didn’t want to break the deal of their race. That wasn’t the kind of person he was, but then again, Oikawa had called _him_ , so this was completely foreign territory. 

“So what kind of business would you need with someone like me? I thought you didn’t like the yakuza,” he asked cockily. 

 _“Oh my god, was that a joke?”_ Oikawa squawked indignantly. 

Iwaizumi snorted. “Did you think I was incapable of making jokes?” he shook his head in amusement. “You want something from me, don’t you?” he asked knowingly, effectively stopping the conversation from running in circles for any longer than it had to. 

 _“Well technically,_ you _wanted something from me first and I’m just giving it to you so call it me being generous,”_ he tried to pass off brusquely. 

“Cut the shit, Oikawa. You wouldn’t have called if you didn’t want something from me,” he said curtly. 

The line went silent for a few seconds again before Oikawa's light tone of voice turned serious. All pretence of a joke was gone the moment Oikawa opened his mouth again. _“I want to cut a deal with you. I’ll give you what you want; I don’t need to hear your reasoning because I have a feeling I already know what it is.”_  

“Yeah? That’s great for me and all but what do _you_ want?” Iwaizumi pressed, tapping a stray red pen against the top of the desk as he waited for Oikawa's answer. 

 _“Meet me at Hongan-ji in an hour and I’ll tell you then,”_ he promised. 

“Oikawa, what –” 

 _“Sorry, Iwa-chan I can’t tell you anything without seeing you face to face. If you don’t show, I’ll take that as you wanting nothing to do with me, which is fine, but think about your chances and if you really do want my help, this is a genuine offer,”_ he assured. _“I have to go, but one hour,”_ he reminded, in a tone that was too confident for Iwaizumi's liking. 

Still, he couldn’t deny that he _wanted_ to go. 

“I’ll see you soon then,” Iwaizumi responded, hanging up before he could scold himself for falling into Oikawa's trap, whatever the fuck it was. 

How someone like him could tell him to fuck off one day and then call him and get Iwaizumi to agree to his conditions the next was beyond him. It irked Iwaizumi to know that Oikawa was so _powerful_ , especially when it came to him. He hated having to rely on other people, but he supposed he _had_ judged Oikawa a little too harshly the first time. It didn’t seem like calling Iwaizumi had been any easier on him either, which was Iwaizumi's only saving grace. 

He pushed himself out of his chair; the map lay forgotten on his desk as he moved upstairs to change out of his sweats and into a pair of clothes that wouldn’t make Oikawa, the stupidly attractive mechanic, look at him with contempt. 

It was just his excuse to dress up for Oikawa; the fact that he _realized_ this made him angry with himself but it didn’t stop him from pulling on a pair of dark jeans, a maroon crewneck sweater and exchanging his worn out kicks for a pair of newer, cleaner grey and black canvas high top trainers, anyway. He let Kyoutani who was the only one home that he was heading out and would be back later – Kyoutani only grunted in acknowledgement – before making his way to the temple. 

An hour later, he was in the company of Oikawa, surrounded by tourists taking pictures of the beautiful architecture around them, thinking that this might have felt like a date if it wasn’t for the heavy insinuations that Oikawa was throwing at him. 

“You know Sakusa?” Iwaizumi asked incredulously as Oikawa led them up the stone stairs to the large temple.

It really was a beautiful temple, and Iwaizumi was surprised with himself for how few times he had actually been to the location given its proximity to his home. The many tourists around him though, was a pretty good indication of why he tended to stay away despite how calming Hongan-ji really was. 

Although the crowd _was_ what was appealing about Oikawa and Iwaizumi meeting here today. It was an open space, busy and loud enough from idle chatter around them to count as a cover for their conversation. 

“I wouldn’t say _that_ ,” Oikawa wrinkled his nose in distaste. “He’s a pain in my ass, and I have a feeling that he’s going to be giving you trouble too,” he said pointedly. 

Iwaizumi exhaled loudly from his nose. “Something like that,” he muttered to himself. “You’re sure that he’s trying to expand his territory? He wasn’t a big name until recently, you know,” he recounted, like Oikawa _didn’t_ know exactly who Sakusa Kiyoomi was. “Used to run some lowly gangs before he teamed up with the Adachi clan. I shouldn’t be surprised; he was always someone we were wary of; he’s too intelligent for his own good and I’d bet everything that he’s really the mastermind behind the strategies driving the Adachi clan,” he laughed bitterly. 

“Trust me, I wouldn’t be feeding you false information,” Oikawa said pointedly. “Seems like you already believe me, you just don’t want to believe the _situation_ ,” Oikawa raised his eyebrows challengingly. 

“Fair enough,” Iwaizumi conceded, huffing slightly at having been caught out. 

He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his jeans. It was chillier now with autumn right on their tails, but the shivers threatening to wrack his body weren’t all from the wind blowing around them. 

“So basically, you want to help me because it’ll get rid of your problem too,” he stated bluntly. 

Oikawa flushed at how selfish the statement sounded but he nodded all the same. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But I don’t want you to do all the work,” he added quickly. “I may be good at tuning up cars, but I’m also a hell of a driver, which you _know_ ,” he reminded pointedly. “And I know _you_ ,” he stressed. 

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi challenged. “What do you know about me?” he snorted. 

“I know you’ve probably already got a plan and you’re going to need good drivers. Let me help. I want Sakusa gone just as much as you do. You still need me,” he said confidently. 

“Want,” Iwaizumi muttered absentmindedly. 

“What?” Oikawa asked, but he was grinning. 

Iwaizumi cursed himself for falling for that familiar banter between them. “Fuck, whatever, I don’t see why not,” he shrugged noncommittally. 

Oikawa cocked his head at him suspiciously. “What’s the catch?” he narrowed his eyes. 

“Why do you think there’s a catch?” Iwaizumi shot back. “Do _you_ have one?” 

“No,” Oikawa answered honestly, shaking his head to confirm his statement. “It’s just…” he trailed off nervously. “This was too easy. I expected you to shut me down since I was such an asshole to you,” he chuckled timidly. 

Iwaizumi was surprised by the honesty. Oikawa really wasn’t what he had made him out to be. “I shouldn’t have tried to get you involved in something that you had no business being in. You were right: I was being pretty selfish back then. Now that we have similar interests though, why not, right?” he reminded. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I talked with Kuroo before coming here,” he added.

“And?” Iwaizumi asked, wary that there really _might be_ a catch. 

“He’s fine with this. He knows how much Sakusa ruined us, and he said he’s happy to help as well. You might want to take him up on that offer; no one’s better with tech than him,” Oikawa boasted proudly. 

Iwaizumi felt a sigh of relief leave his body at the surprising statement. “Yeah,” he agreed easily. “Of course, _yeah_ ,” he emphasized.

Oikawa smiled at him genuinely, and Iwaizumi cursed himself for having agreed to Oikawa's proposal. If he continued to give him that look, Iwaizumi wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from saying or doing something stupid. 

“Take a picture of me,” Oikawa said suddenly. 

“ _What_?” Iwaizumi asked, shocked by the change in conversation as much as from the demand. 

“We came to a tourist spot; I can’t leave without a picture,” Oikawa explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Are you serious right now?” Iwaizumi demanded. 

“Dead serious,” Oikawa confirmed, handing Iwaizumi his phone and moving to stand back in between the two large, stone pillars that framed the main door to the temple. 

Iwaizumi stood still, too shocked to move for a few moments before he begrudgingly took a few steps back and lifted the phone in his hand to take a picture of Oikawa who looked far too happy for someone who could come to the temple whenever he wanted. 

When Oikawa smiled again, wide and sincere, eyes crinkled up in crescents as he threw up a peace sign with one hand, Iwaizumi was hit with the realization that as much as Oikawa's help was appreciated, it might just end up doing him more harm than good. 

* * *

The moment Tsukishima walked into Oikawa's apartment, Oikawa could _feel_ the tension in the room rise. Tsukki was known for figuring out situations in a matter of seconds, and the two people he was best at deciphering were Kuroo and Oikawa. They weren’t planning on hiding Oikawa's meeting with Iwaizumi from him _anyway_ , but that didn’t mean that they were happy to spring it on him without some kind of a buffer either. 

Unfortunately for Oikawa and Kuroo, Tsukishima didn’t give them a chance to butter him up before they laid down the situation for him. One look at their guilty faces and he had thrown his bag down, marched over to them and demanded to know the truth. 

After that, there was no way that either Oikawa or Kuroo were going to be able to talk their way out of the situation. The further into the explanation they got, the more Tsukishima’s temple started to throb until the vein in his forehead was pulsing against his skin so hard that Oikawa was legitimately concerned for Tsukishima’s health.

“So let me get this straight,” Tsukishima said through gritted teeth when they had finished telling him what had happened. 

He was sitting on the kitchen table in Oikawa's apartment, having come over straight from work to pick up Kuroo. Semi had rightfully locked himself in his room the moment he saw Tsukishima’s frightening glare. 

“You know who Iwaizumi Hajime is, you’re _aware_ of his reputation and the kinds of people he hangs out with, you _know_ that the police are still hounding you for someone to blame for whatever shit plan they need a scapegoat for next and _yet_ , you’re going to voluntarily mix yourself up in more trouble,” he deadpanned, voice rising with every statement he listed off. 

Oikawa flushed. When he said it like _that_ it made him sound like an idiot. In retrospect, he _was_ an idiot; and selfish too, for dragging the friends who would lay their lives down for his into this mess. 

“Tsukki,” Kuroo started carefully. 

“No, don’t fucking _Tsukki_ me,” he glared when Kuroo tried to wrap an arm around his waist, shoving his hand away and crossing his arms over his chest as he stood up to glare down at the both of them over the bridge of his nose. “You’re both so fucking stupid. Oikawa being fickle, I can understand.” 

“Hey!” Oikawa protested weakly. 

Tsukishima ignored him. “But aren’t you supposed to be the reasonable one? What the fuck has gotten into you?” he yelled at Kuroo. 

“It’s just a mod,” Kuroo replied meekly. 

“It’s _not_ just a mod,” Tsukishima denied. “Tell me, what does he really want from you?” he looked up at Oikawa who was sitting across from him, hands clasped tightly in one another, thumbs fiddling nervously. 

“He wants me to tune up some of his cars,” Oikawa admitted. “That’s it,” he added before Tsukishima could lecture him further. 

“ _Why_?” he demanded breezily.

“Because the same people who fucked with Semi, _no_ don’t give me that look, he didn’t know what he was getting into,” Oikawa said sternly, cutting off the bitterness that was about to stem from Tsukishima. “The same people who fucked with Semi, and as a result, _us_ , are about to pull the same shit in Koto-ku. Hell, they’re probably going to continue hitting up any ward that they can because there’s a fucking _brawl_ starting between the yakuza clans and they don’t give a shit who they get involved for their personal gains,” he decided firmly.

“The _yakuza_ ,” Tsukishima deadpanned. “Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth? Are you fucking stupid?” he demanded angrily. “Kuroo, are you listening to this?” he asked, rounding on his boyfriend. 

Kuroo looked like a deer caught in headlights. He gulped, eyes flitting between Tsukishima and Oikawa's unyielding gazes quickly. On one hand, Oikawa was his best friend, his brother, the man who had given up his entire life’s dreams to come to his defense. On the other hand, he loved Tsukishima and he _knew_ his boyfriend cared about him; hell, they had talked about their future together. 

His hesitancy didn’t go unnoticed by Tsukishima, who saved him the trouble of answering. Or maybe the hesitancy had just managed to dig him deeper into the hole he had dug out for himself.

“Tch. You’re too soft hearted, you know that? You let everyone take advantage of you because of your inability to keep your emotions in check,” he said stiffly, turning his attention back to Oikawa. 

Oikawa cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a compliment or an insult,” he said nervously. 

“It’s obviously an _insult_ , you idiot. So maybe you don’t care about yourself, whatever, it’s your fucking life. But what about _Kuroo_? What about _me_? It’s almost been seven months now and we’re _still_ not free from whatever fucking mess you and your damn weak heart managed to get us all into,” he shouted. 

Oikawa swallowed down the anger that was bubbling in his chest, hands clenched together tightly. Tsukishima was right, but that didn’t mean that Oikawa needed another reminder that every shitty thing in their life had been his fault up till now. 

“Tsukishima,” Kuroo said angrily, standing up, and turning his gaze towards his boyfriend. The screech of the wooden chair against the kitchen tiles only added to the tension that had magnified ten-fold in the span of a second. 

“What? You’re going to defend him again, aren’t you?” Tsukishima accused, lips pulling into a thin line.

“I’m not defending him,” Kuroo said calmly. “But I also won’t let you throw the blame around like this while you’re angry. I get it, you’re pissed, and you have every right to be but you’re _not_ going to accuse Oikawa of ruining things because that’s the _last_ thing he’s done,” Kuroo said, voice steadfast and unwavering. 

“Tetsu, stop,” Oikawa said, standing up and nudging Kuroo back before he could say something that was going to regret. “Tsukki’s right, it is my fault,” he admitted. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning his attention towards Tsukishima’s piercing gaze. 

A lesser man might have been deterred by the look of pure loathing Tsukishima was throwing at him, but Oikawa had known Tsukki long enough to know that when he was pissed, he tended to mix up his care with his anger. 

“Shut up,” Tsukishima snapped. 

“No, listen, I _am_ sorry,” Oikawa insisted. “I know I’ve apologized to you before but I do mean it. Iwaizumi asked for my help, not Tetsu's, and while I’m sure he’d appreciate the dual effort from us because I really can’t take credit for everything we’ve accomplished with the garage, I won’t ask him to get himself involved,” he promised. “You obviously don’t seem to believe me, so I’ll pay Tetsu for his share of the garage, with the promise of a buy-in whenever he wants, _if_ he wants, so I’m not taking anything away,” Oikawa compromised. “We can set up an official contract and everything,” he added when he was met with silence from Tsukishima.

“Yeah, and where are you going to get the money from?” Tsukishima challenged. 

Oikawa smiled wryly. “You think I can’t make it up with the cars I have? Don’t underestimate what I’d do for Tetsu, Tsukishima,” he said bitterly, using Tsukki’s full name insultingly. 

His resentful tone of voice made Tsukishima scoff loudly, which only served to rile Oikawa up further. When they were fighting for the same thing, they were unstoppable. The moment either of them had conflicting views, it was an all out war. Kuroo stepped in before that could happen though, shooting both Oikawa and Tsukishima a warning glare to _stop_ before they said things to one another that they’d deeply regret later. 

“I don’t want that,” Kuroo said decisively before the bullshit about selling his share to the garage developed any further. “This garage is everything Tooru and I have built by ourselves and it’s my _career_ ,” he emphasized. 

“So what does that mean?” Tsukishima pressed. “That you’re okay with getting involved in something that you have no business nosing into in the first place? That you’re _fine_ with putting your life, putting _my life_ in danger once again?” he asked angrily. 

“Kei, that’s not fair, you _know_ I’d never intentionally do that,” he said softly, reaching out for Tsukishima’s hand, but his boyfriend pulled away before Kuroo had the chance to lace their fingers together. 

“So what then?” he demanded. “Are you going to walk away from this like a sane man or are you going to continue to dig your own grave?” he asked sternly.

“Kei,” Kuroo started. 

Oikawa had the decency to avoid eye contact with either of them, choosing to stare idly in a corner. He would have walked away, had it not been for the fact that this was _his_ apartment, and he was pretty sure Tsukishima wasn’t done grilling him yet either. 

“I’m leaving,” Tsukishima announced suddenly, breaking Oikawa out of his own thoughts. “I don’t want any part of this. I’m tired of having to save your asses from everyone _including_ yourselves. Do whatever you want, Kuroo, but I’m telling you that whatever decision you make now you won’t be getting a second chance to fix later on.”

The threat in his statement was glaringly obvious. Oikawa wouldn’t blame Kuroo if he chose to leave. After all, he knew how much Kuroo loved Tsukki and how much Tsukki loved him. Still, he would have been lying if he said he didn’t feel an immense pride swell up in his chest at the slow shake of Kuroo's head.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” he said quietly. “But I’m pretty sure you already knew what my answer was going to be from the start,” he added, smiling wryly.

Tsukishima nodded, fists clenched up in anger but a resigned expression softening his features. He bent down to pick up his discarded bag that he had thrown onto the ground in his anger when he had first walked in and seen the plotting looks on both Oikawa and Kuroo's faces. 

“Goodbye, Kuroo. Oikawa,” he said stiffly, turning away and hiding the pain on his face before it could unmask his true feelings. 

Neither Oikawa nor Kuroo tried to stop Tsukishima. They knew that Tsukki wasn’t going to change his mind, and the other man wouldn’t be able to change Kuroo and Oikawa's. They were all just as stubborn as one another and would never do something they didn’t feel was right.

That didn’t stop Oikawa from feeling like an asshole anyway. 

Tsukishima’s complaints about him having a weak heart struck close to home, if only because it unintentionally brought back bad memories of the first time he had distanced himself from someone. That time, it had been his father telling him to forget about Kuroo and focus on his own life, but Oikawa had always been proud of his strength and his ability to see people for who they were. Kuroo was his best friend; the man who would do anything for him so if Oikawa couldn’t return that favour then he wasn’t worthy of their friendship.

Seeing the culmination of his decision from seven years ago come back full force to show him that he had been _right_ all those years ago for standing up for what he believed was right, wasn’t as satisfying as he had hoped for it to be. Because this time, it was at the loss of Kuroo, and no matter how nice it was of his best friend to have stood by him, it didn’t make Oikawa want any less for the man.

“Tetsu,” he started, voice gravelly against the way his throat was slowly constricting his ability to speak.

“Leave it, Tooru,” Kuroo sighed. “I hope you’re ready to have another roommate,” he added, trying to make light of the situation. 

“You can have my room,” he insisted, as if that was going to wipe away some of the guilt. It wouldn’t, Oikawa _knew_ that it wouldn’t, but he figured he could still try if only to appeased his conscience. 

“Forget it, this is your apartment. Just give me the futon,” he said defiantly. 

“I’ll tell Semi to give you the guest bedroom,” Oikawa amended, trying to do _something_ to make Kuroo feel better. Or maybe this was his lame attempt at making himself feel better. At this point, he wasn’t sure what he was saying or _whom_ he was saying it for. 

“Don’t even think about it. I’m fine, so let’s not make a big deal about this. You said Iwaizumi wanted to meet tomorrow anyway, and we’ll both need a good night’s rest to deal with whatever the hell he has planned,” he reminded, breezing past Oikawa's concern. 

Oikawa gave him an unimpressed look, but he knew better than to fight Kuroo right now. _Of course_ , he was sad and angry and upset, and whatever the hell else he had every right to feel but Oikawa wasn’t going to push him to talk. Not when his falling out with Tsukishima was fresh on his mind – too fresh for him to have even acknowledged the realization of it all. 

When Kuroo needed him, Oikawa would be there with all the support in the world. “Mackerel for dinner tomorrow?” he asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah,” Kuroo confirmed. “Mackerel for dinner,” he agreed, sitting back down at the kitchen table as Oikawa went to retrieve the spare futon from Semi’s room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will say this once: kurotsuki are _not_ breaking up for good! just give it some time, i promise they'll have their happy ending too!
> 
> next time:  
> \- Kuroo can('t) keep a secret  
> \- Oikawa has a lapse in judgement x2
> 
> please leave me a comment/kudos! there are 100+ of u subscribed here and it's kind of disappointing to see such few comments despite that number :/ ur comments really do mean a lot to me, and while i'm not gonna quit writing this bc i don't see feedback, it really does help motivate me when i see comments, whether they're long paragraphs or even a simple sentence! ♡


	9. stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _n-now th-that that don't kill me_  
>  _can only make me stronger_  
>  _i need you to hurry up now_  
>  _cause i can't wait much longer_  
>  _i know i got to be right now_  
>  _cause i can't get much wronger_  
>  \-- **stronger** \- kanye west

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow updates have been really sporadic and slow, and i want to apologize for that, but i hope that the length makes them worth it >.< school's been busy, as always, but i'm half-way through my senior year of university and graduation is right around the corner! kind of scary lol, but i'm surviving
> 
> anyway, i hope everyone's having a good holiday season! here's to a great 2018! ♡

“I can’t tell if you’re pissed or nervous, or  _both_ ,” Kuroo hummed thoughtfully, eyeing Oikawa's twisted frown with contempt. “Relax, will you? You’ve met Iwaizumi before, hell, you’ve got the upper hand here considering he needs you,  _us_ ,” he corrected. “And you’ve met his crew too, so why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” he asked bluntly, tapping his shoes against the car mat at the base of his feet.

Oikawa opened his mouth to protest before closing it, focusing on the road ahead in response. He wasn’t  _pissed_ , nor was he  _nervous_. He just… didn’t want to meet up with Iwaizumi back at his fucking warehouse. He was slowly starting to accept that Iwaizumi had forgotten all about the last time that Oikawa had been there, which was  _fine_ , because now they had a professional relationship and Oikawa wasn’t stupid enough to be petty over something that was never going to happen again.

Still, it was  _weird_. No one except him remembered and well, that was awkward as hell.

“I’m not pissed, nor am I nervous,” he responded tersely, making a sharp left that went completely against his declaration.

“Right,” Kuroo drawled. “So then tell me, what  _are_  you feeling because this,” he waved his hands in the space between them vaguely, “this isn’t you and I know that something’s up.”

“Nothing,” Oikawa waved off. Kuroo snorted as if to say he didn’t believe a word of what was coming out of Oikawa's mouth. “Seriously,  _nothing_ ,” he insisted.

“Liar,” he responded immediately.

Oikawa let out an annoyed sound, somewhere between a growl and a whine but he didn’t correct Kuroo's assumption. He  _was_ a liar, and to his best friend no less. But telling Kuroo about how he knew Iwaizumi was going to bring back memories he was  _desperately_ – and badly – trying to forget.

For a few more moments, they drove in silence. That morning, Semi had gone to work with the promise of staying out of trouble. It didn’t do them any good to move out now that Sakusa knew where they all were, but strength came in numbers, and Oikawa was sure that if they stuck together, they could fight off whatever the fuck Sakusa had planned.

Not that he thought the man was stupid enough to try for an obvious war. He was more of the behind the scenes kind of guy; he wasn’t going to come after either of them unless he had a reason to. So as long as they kept  _their_  involvement with Iwaizumi away from Sakusa’s prying eyes, everything should have been fine.

He could have tried to pass off his jittery behaviour as a result of voluntarily getting involved with Sakusa, but Kuroo wasn’t stupid. That kind of an excuse wasn’t going to fly by him, and Oikawa wasn’t that much of an asshole to even try to offer that up.

“You know, I didn’t know we kept secrets between us,” Kuroo said quietly.

Oikawa felt his stomach twist in displeasure. “I’m not keeping secrets,” he grit his teeth. Even he couldn’t believe his own lie.

“Fine,” Kuroo conceded. “You’ve never hid something from me before so whatever it is you’re not telling me, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt for,” he sighed, turning his head to look out the window instead.

The busy city streets had turned into an industrial area not too long ago; the neatly paved cement roads had transitioned into dirt roads filled with too much mud and potholes and the small, stacked buildings had become larger, sturdier factories and warehouses. Being near the dock made it a commercial area, and yet, Iwaizumi and his group’s base happened to be in the remotest part of the area, fenced in and abandoned for the most part.

They weren’t too far out from where they were supposed to meet, but suddenly, Oikawa pulled over to the side, veering off course from the carved driving trail onto a patch of dead, yellowing grass. He parked his car, turned the engine off and looked at Kuroo with a gruelling stare.

“What are you doing?” Kuroo asked, confused by Oikawa's behaviour.

“Swear you won’t judge me,” Oikawa answered in response.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Quit acting so cryptic and just  _drive_ ,” Kuroo snapped tetchily, shoving at Oikawa's shoulder lightly to get him to turn his attention back to the steering wheel.

“Stop being a dick, I’m trying to tell you something here,” Oikawa growled. “Swear you won’t judge me,” he prompted again.

“Are you serious right now?” Kuroo narrowed his eyes.

“Do I look like I’m joking to you?” Oikawa responded back sincerely, lips pulling into a thinner line the longer the conversation dragged on. “Oh forget it,” he sighed when Kuroo continued to give him a suspicious glare.

“No! I’m sorry, okay, I swear I won’t judge you. Jesus, Tooru, you’re acting so weird.”

“I slept with him,” Oikawa blurted out in a hurry, face heating up the moment the confession was out of his mouth.

“What? Who?  _Iwaizumi_?” Kuroo questioned, asking each word in quick succession. Oikawa nodded, tearing his gaze away from Kuroo's wide eyes. “ _Oh my god_ ,” he groaned, halfway between annoyance and laughter. “You fucking asshole, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, that’s why!” Oikawa defended angrily, whipping his head back to face Kuroo's stare dead-on.

“Relax,” Kuroo lifted his hands up in defense to show that he meant to harm from his words. “So what, you slept with him, no big deal, right? I mean, maybe this can even work to our advantage depending on who initiated it,” he laughed, trying and failing to lighten the mood. “Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me, don’t tell me it was  _you_  who jumped him,” he snorted, trying to hide his amusement.

Oikawa bristled at the accusation. “I did not! Maybe,  _I don’t know_ , it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t remember anyway,” he admitted, looking past Kuroo's head.

“What do you mean he  _doesn’t remember_?” Kuroo narrowed his eyes.

“Just that: he doesn’t fucking  _remember_ ,” Oikawa shouted in exasperation. “See why it’s embarrassing? He got piss drunk off some old bottle of vodka, which he refused to let me have, the  _bastard_ ,” Oikawa mumbled the last part under his breath. If only he had gotten piss drunk too, he wouldn’t have been able to remember so vividly the events of that night. “I left before he woke up the next morning, and well, here we are,” he smiled wryly, throwing his hands up in a defeated wave.

Kuroo's eyebrows had risen so far up his head, that Oikawa couldn’t tell where his hair started and his eyebrows ended.

“You’re judging me,” he deadpanned.

“Am not,” Kuroo denied. “Seriously, I’m just thinking,” he insisted when Oikawa pursed his lips.

“About?”

“Why you haven’t murdered his ass yet for forgetting. You’re losing your touch,” he smiled, flicking Oikawa's forehead affectionately.

“Don’t do that,” Oikawa frowned, but the angry flush on his face started to melt at hearing Kuroo's sincerity.

Telling Kuroo about Iwaizumi made him realize that was the push he really needed to just  _move on_. He was starting to lose his hostility towards the other man, but knowing that he had to come back to the place that had been his most humiliating experience for the first time since it happened had started to stir some bad blood in him again.

He really didn’t deserve a friend like Kuroo.

“So when did this happen? That day we saw him at the fish market? Or wait, don’t tell me, it was a pity fuck for when he lost against you last week?” Kuroo asked casually.

Oikawa choked slightly at the question. “Try five months ago,” he grimaced, watching the way Kuroo's jaw dropped.

“I fucking knew it!” he yelled, much too loudly for the enclosed space they were in. “You looked unreasonably pissed when he showed up that first time, about a month ago in Ariake, you lying bastard. I told Tsukki; we bet on it, but I guess I can’t exactly claim my win now, huh?” he asked, expression turning sombre in a matter of seconds.

Oikawa felt the pit of guilt in his stomach pool further. Kuroo had gone back to his apartment that morning to grab some of his things, and maybe talk to Tsukishima, but the other man had already left for work. He had placed all of Kuroo's clothes in a box at the front door – a clear indication that there was nothing for them to talk about if he was going to continue down the path that he had chosen.

In retrospect, it wasn’t really Oikawa's fault; he knew that he wasn’t making Kuroo do anything. But Kuroo was also loyal to a fault, so behind all the rational thinking, Oikawa was left with the realization that unknowingly, Kuroo and Tsukishima’s untimely breakup  _was_  his fault.

“Anyway, let’s see how long it takes Iwaizumi to remember, huh?” Kuroo perked up, face lifting back up into a cheeky smile.

“Excuse me,  _what_?” Oikawa threatened.

“I mean, maybe all he needs to remember are a few hints pointing him in the right direction,” Kuroo continued.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Oikawa shouted, shoving at Kuroo's shoulder. “This is a  _secret_ ; you had better not say a damn word to anyone,  _especially_  not him,” he said pointedly.

“Yeah? Or what?” Kuroo challenged. It was far too easy to rile Oikawa up.

“Fuck you,” Oikawa growled, bluff having been called out.

“Just drive,” Kuroo laughed, reaching over and turning the ignition on for him.

Oikawa grumbled in frustration, but only managed to bump Kuroo's hand out of the way in a half-hearted attempted at anger before he turned the car back onto the dirt road.

The rest of the drive was mostly silent save for the slow tune of rock playing from the rusty car speakers. It was background noise more than anything, but Oikawa didn’t really care for Kuroo's bad taste in music or for the distraction.

He was happy – happier than he had been in a long time, which was stupid because his problems had only doubled but knowing that he didn’t have any more secrets from Kuroo was a liberating feeling.

Kuroo was smiling too, tapping his foot against the mat every once in a while and shooting Oikawa a sleepy smile every time their attention landed on one another. Eventually, the smiled turned into snickers of laughter; only two people who knew everything about one another could decipher a smile or a touch or a laugh into words.

But hearing their mutual amusement just made the hand around Oikawa's heart tighten. His shoulders felt light from having fessed up, but his heart still felt like a rock – heavy and full of too much guilt.

“Don’t be a dick,” Oikawa warned when they reached Iwaizumi's.

He parked his car outside along with a few other older looking ones. Oikawa knew that the real ammo was inside the garage – the second warehouse connected to the one closer to the gated entrance but he wanted to stay away from that place for as long as he could. It was stupid, considering he knew that they had come to check out the vehicles Iwaizumi and his crew had in there, so Oikawa was only stalling for maybe five minutes at best, but it gave him an unreasonable sense of comfort.

“About what?” Kuroo asked in a voice that was too innocent to be believable.

“You know what,” Oikawa scowled. “Seriously, don’t,” he repeated.

Kuroo gave him a calculating look but eventually deemed Oikawa's mood pissy enough to agree. “Fine. I’ll play dumb,” he conceded.

Oikawa didn’t really believe Kuroo would back off fully, but he didn’t have any reason to be suspicious at the moment, so he nodded, stuffed his hands into the pocket of his black jeans and walked towards the door.

He didn’t really know which was the  _front_  considering there were so many random doors along the entire metal and concrete building, but when the door he had knocked on opened a few seconds after he had announced their presence, Oikawa could only assume he had picked the right one.

It was Bokuto who answered the door – face pulled up in a happy expression. Oikawa couldn’t tell if he was genuinely that happy, or putting on an act. He didn’t know the other man well enough to make an assumption yet, so he pushed that thought aside and bumped his outstretched fist in greeting before moving aside for Kuroo to do the same.

The first and last time Oikawa had seen Bokuto was about two weeks ago. Now that they weren’t looking at one another through the blinding white of car headlights, Oikawa really had the chance to observe Bokuto. He was broad – just about as broad as Iwaizumi was, but taller and much friendlier looking, despite his impressive stature. He was wearing a pair of casual grey sweatpants and a navy blue t-shirt, but it didn’t make him look any less impressive.

Something about how inviting his personality was made him all the more dangerous in Oikawa's opinion. He wasn’t one of the most feared people in Tokyo for no reason, and Oikawa would hate to find out just what he got like when he was angry.  

“Iwaizumi's out with Kyoutani – the idiot managed to get his phone swiped at a restaurant last week,” Bokuto shook his head in disapproval, closing the door behind them.

Oikawa snorted in amusement at the visual. “And what’s Iwa-chan, his protective dad?”

Bokuto gave him a curious look. Oikawa didn’t realize until after Bokuto started speaking that it could have been due to the way he addressed Iwaizumi. He hadn’t meant to sound  _friendly_ , but saying Iwaizumi was just long; besides, Oikawa had a feeling Iwaizumi was seconds from telling him to fuck off every time he heard the cute nickname, and driving the man to the brink of insanity was a talent Oikawa would love to boast.

“More like protective older brother,” Bokuto corrected. “But no, the only reason he went is to make sure Kyoutani  _doesn’t_  do anything stupid. He’s not exactly the most subtle guy out there, you know?” he chuckled, obviously thinking of something that was an inside joke with the way his eyes crinkled up in familiar amusement.

“Hmm,” Oikawa nodded, trying to move the conversation along.

“Anyway, I can show you around if you want, or we can have a drink in the kitchen. Want anything?” he offered, looking between Oikawa and Kuroo.

“I can go for a beer,” Kuroo answered.

Bokuto’s face lit up. “I can provide,” he laughed.

“It’s 2 pm,” Oikawa deadpanned. When Kuroo and Bokuto both gave him identical looks as if to say ‘ _so?_ ’ he shook his head. “Water’s fine, and we can wait until Iwaizumi's back,” he clarified before the question could pop up again.

They followed Bokuto into the kitchen, which wasn’t all that far from the front door. Oikawa spotted the different rooms that they had tried to create in such an open area that wasn’t mean to have any separation. It wasn’t where Oikawa would have personally chosen to live, but it was decently cozy for a place that looked like it got too cold in the winter.

“We’ve got heating installed,” Bokuto commented, reading into Oikawa's scrunched up expression.

“Have you been living here long?” Oikawa deflected, trying his best not to let his embarrassed flush get the best of him.

He wasn’t trying to be a judgmental asshole, but apparently he was good at giving off that impression anyway.

“Yeah, a few years,” Bokuto confirmed, but he didn’t go into further details and neither Oikawa nor Kuroo asked for them.

They sat down at the kitchen table – a wooden one, not unfamiliar to the one Oikawa had at his apartment and Bokuto laid out food and drinks. He was trying hard to be a good host, but Oikawa couldn’t stow that sinking feeling of reluctance away. It was obvious in the way he avoided eye contact, kept adjusted and readjusting the hem of his grey, crewneck sweater and tapped his foot against the tiles loudly.

Kuroo tried to deflect Bokuto’s attention away from Oikawa by keeping him distracted, which Oikawa was thankful for. The last thing he needed was for Bokuto to think he didn’t like him. Oikawa  _did_  like him – as much as he could for someone he didn’t know, but he was in unfamiliar territory, surrounded by a situation he had no idea how to proceed in.

What felt like hours but had only been twenty minutes later, Iwaizumi and Kyoutani returned. He’d claim that in the twenty minutes since their arrival and Iwaizumi's return, Oikawa had managed to calm himself down a little, but the moment he saw Iwaizumi's familiar stature was when he really felt himself relax. 

Maybe it was because he had made every arrangement for today with Iwaizumi, or maybe it was because it was him who had requested Oikawa's help in the first place, or hell, it could have been something else. All Oikawa knew was that one moment he was feeling jittery and unprepared and the next he was focused and composed.

“Sorry if we kept you waiting,” Iwaizumi apologized. “This one over here can’t tell when he’s being mugged,” he rolled his eyes, shoving at Kyoutani’s head.

“You don’t have to go around telling everybody my business,” Kyoutani growled, face red in what Oikawa couldn’t tell was anger or embarrassment.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes but didn’t rise to Kyoutani’s bait. The younger man looked like he wanted the argument to continue – probably an offshoot of his grouchy mood at having been bested – but a few moments of tense silence later, he grumbled something inaudible under his breath and trekked upstairs.

“Is he…?” Kuroo trailed off, eyes following behind Kyoutani.

“He’ll be fine, he just went to change… probably,” Bokuto supplied, far too cheerily.

Kuroo shrugged, deeming the explanation acceptable. Oikawa was so focused on watching Iwaizumi that he barely heard half of what had happened. Ever since Iwaizumi walked in, the only thing that grabbed Oikawa's attention was  _him_.

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act around the man anymore. Oikawa didn’t hate him, but they certainly weren’t friends either despite their temporary truce. It was strange, because no one had stumped Oikawa like this before.

Iwaizumi was either oblivious to Oikawa's internal struggle or didn’t have any of his own. He slipped his shoes off, threw his jacket on the rack near the front and sat down at the table right next to Oikawa. Kuroo gave him a knowing smirk, but one foul glare from Oikawa and his teasing expression slipped right off.

Telling Kuroo about Iwaizumi had been the  _right_  thing to do but Oikawa wasn’t sure whether he would regret his decision or not.

“Where’d Kyoutani lose his wallet?” Oikawa asked, trying not to sound stiff in an attempt to break the silence that had enveloped the table the moment Iwaizumi had sat down.

“This restaurant in Roppongi,” Iwaizumi smiled.

“Huh,” Oikawa mused. “I didn’t take him for the kind of guy to go to restaurants in Roppongi,” he chuckled.

“That’s because he was on a  _date_ ,” Bokuto supplied, much to Kyoutani’s – who had chosen that moment to re-enter – chagrin.

“Stop talking about me,” he growled. “And it  _wasn’t_  a date. We were just hanging out,” he insisted.

“At a fancy restaurant in Roppongi? Where you ordered  _wine_?” Bokuto shot back.

“Yahaba?” Oikawa whispered to Iwaizumi as Kyoutani yelled curses and death threats at Bokuto who only laughed loudly, finding the whole situation amusing.

Oikawa wasn’t sure if Bokuto was just very confident, or very easy going. If someone like Kyoutani was throwing death threats at  _him_ , he might have thought about being a little more careful. But then again, despite Bokuto's friendly personality, he also looked like he would have no trouble taking someone down in a fistfight.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi chuckled quietly. “Okay, shut up,” he turned his attention to the bickering duo. They stopped at Iwaizumi's demand, Kyoutani taking the empty seat between Bokuto and Iwaizumi at the table.

Oikawa couldn’t believe how ridiculously hot Iwaizumi's authoritative voice was. He had to look away from the table, busying himself with his phone instead to avoid any suspicion about his inappropriate thoughts. Kuroo, however, didn’t miss a thing; Oikawa felt his friend nudge his foot under the table the moment he turned away as if to say ‘ _I know what you’re thinking_.’

“We’ll show you around the garage. Oikawa tells me you’re the tech expert?” Iwaizumi spoke to Kuroo, thankfully taking his attention away from tormenting Oikawa.

“I try,” he grinned, humbled by the declaration.

“Good, okay, we have a couple of cars that are perfectly fine, but I don’t want  _good_ cars; I want them to be great in the way that they’re irreproducible,” he instructed.

“That’s awfully arrogant of you,” Oikawa said offhandedly.

Iwaizumi gave him a wry smirk. “You’re working on them, aren’t you?” he asked, as if that was any response. The way Oikawa blushed made his smirk widen, but he didn’t let his gaze linger on Oikawa's flushed face for too long. “Once you get a look at the specs, I’ll let you and Oikawa tell me what you can and can’t do for the cars.”

“Sounds good,” Kuroo confirmed, looking to Oikawa for his decision.

“Yeah, that’s good with me,” he supplied, ashamed to say that he had barely been paying attention to the words coming out of Iwaizumi's mouth; he was far too focused on the  _sound_ , and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to have to walk around with an uncomfortable, half-hard dick for the rest of the afternoon.  

More words were exchanged, and Kuroo, thankfully, handled the talking while Oikawa tried to get his mind to stop thinking about Iwaizumi's voice and his hands and how he was sitting so close to Oikawa that he could feel their shoulders brush against one another every time Iwaizumi shifted to turn his head towards someone else. It was difficult to stop thinking about him when he was  _so close_ , and he smelled and sounded  _so good_.

Unsurprisingly, Oikawa found himself torn between gratitude and regret at having agreed – hell having  _sought out_  Iwaizumi, and working with him for the undetermined future ahead of them.

When everyone rose from the table, Oikawa followed suit instinctively, completely unaware of what was happening around them.

“Hey, you’re not going to back out on me now, are you?” Iwaizumi asked quietly, leaning in for privacy.

Oikawa's eyes widened at the proximity before the words actually sank in. he shook his head quickly, which obviously amused Iwaizumi if the way he bit his lip to prevent a smile was any indication.

“I don’t go back on my word,” he insisted.

“Me neither,” Iwaizumi confirmed. He didn’t give Oikawa another chance to ask him any further questions before he walked off in the direction that Kyoutani, Bokuto, and Kuroo had just gone off in.

By the time Oikawa had figured out where they were going, his face was so red he wasn’t sure how no one had commented on it yet. He could  _feel_  the heat beating against his skin; the blood rushing through his face, down his neck and chest and even making its way slowly to his pale fingertips left a rush of desire as much as remorse.

In retrospect, Oikawa should have seen this coming. He had  _seen_  where Iwaizumi and his friends kept all their cars earlier, and although he had been a little  _occupied_  at the time, that didn’t mean he should have forgotten.

It didn’t help when Kuroo leaned down to mutter quietly, “Figures you’d have sex in a  _garage_  of all places,” before walking off like he  _hadn’t_  just said something so incriminating, asking Kyoutani to help him take down some of the car’s measurements.

Oikawa busied himself looking over some of the parts the group had lying around, choosing to distance himself from the crowd. He couldn’t trust himself not to look like a tomato, and he couldn’t trust Kuroo to not make any smart remarks. He had half expected someone to ask him what he was up to, but he was thankful that the group let him do his own thing.

Without the constant blaring presence of Iwaizumi, or Kuroo's suggestive looks, it was easy for Oikawa to fall into a familiar rhythm. He took note of the size of the crankshafts, the new insulation that the brakes could be amped up with, the wiring they had lying around and anything else he could possibly think to come in handy.

There were a lot of spare parts, but it certainly wasn’t enough and he soon found himself making a list of what he would have to bring from  _East River Motors_  the next time they came here. They had already agreed that working out of Iwaizumi's garage was both the safest option, and the easiest one. The cars were already  _there_ , and while some of the parts were too heavy to just load into one of their cars, it was still easier than working out of his and Kuroo's own garage and having the police suspect them further.

Sakusa’s involvement in the matter would only serve to make them look all the more suspicious. If he was now working with the yakuza, Oikawa had no doubt that some of the cops had been paid off, and they would do their best to make Oikawa look like the guilty party. This time around, he wasn’t sure he could get out of it with a little bit of debt and the annoyance of having to work around his hobbies.

“Kind of a shitty stock, huh?” Iwaizumi asked, breaking Oikawa out of his reverie. He turned around to find Iwaizumi leaning against a metal table, feet crossed in front of him and arms stuffed into the pockets of his pants.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the comment. “It’s rude to stare, you know,” he deflected flippantly, not really in the mood for a conversation, lest he humiliate himself further.

“And it’s rude to pretend that you like me one day then completely ignore me the next,” he shot back, lips quirked up in a small smile. Oikawa couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. Still, the insinuation made him flush slightly, both out of anger and embarrassment.

“Who said I liked you?  _Tolerate_  is the more appropriate word in this case,” he responded stubbornly. It wasn’t true, and he regretted saying it the moment the words had come out of his mouth but if there was one thing he was good at being, it was stubborn and there was no way he was backing out of the grave he was slowly digging for himself.  

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘ _really_ ’ but dropped the subject quickly; instead he chose to push himself away from the table and stride over to where Oikawa was diligently sorting through the spare parts.

“Want help?” he asked casually.

“No thanks,” Oikawa denied, turning his head down to his phone where he had finished typing his list. There was nothing else for him to do, and he found his fingers hesitating over his screen. He heard Iwaizumi snort from next to him and Oikawa immediately found his face pulling down into a frown. “ _What_?” he snapped.

“You know, you don’t have to pretend like you’re busy if you don’t want to talk to me. I don’t know what I did in the span of a few minutes to make you go from voluntarily talking to me to trying your best to avoid me, but I can take a hint,” he shrugged, backing off and walking away before Oikawa could retort.

He wasn’t wrong though, Oikawa unfortunately admitted to himself as he watched Iwaizumi's retreating figure. Even he couldn’t pinpoint the source of all his frustration and nerves. Iwaizumi hadn’t done anything since then, yet Oikawa couldn’t help but find some kind of undeterred anger emanating towards the other man. He told himself he was over their drunken encounter, but that clearly wasn’t the case.

Iwaizumi was good on his word: he didn’t try to approach Oikawa for the remainder of the afternoon or the evening, and he even excused himself early with an apology as Kuroo and Oikawa packed up to leave. Oikawa didn’t know why but  _that_  pissed him off even more. Iwaizumi wasn’t supposed to be so  _complacent_ , and yet, it seemed like he was. And for what: because he didn’t want Oikawa to quit on him?

That wasn’t the kind of person Oikawa was. He was being stupid – he  _knew_  he was. He wanted one thing from Iwaizumi, and when he got it, he wanted another. He was being entirely unreasonable, and yet, he couldn’t help but let his emotions get the best of him.

“What’s wrong?” Kuroo asked, noticing the tightness of Oikawa's lips and his uncharacteristic silence on their way home.

“Nothing,” he mumbled dejectedly.

“O- _kay_ ,” Kuroo dragged the syllables out, lifting his eyebrows as a sign of disbelief. “Whatever,” he continued when Oikawa chose to clench his jaw tighter. “Wanna go out tonight?” he asked, changing the subject.

The offer was nice, but Oikawa wasn’t sure how much of a going out mood he was in. “I don’t know, I don’t feel very social tonight,” he admitted.

“Hmm,” Kuroo mumbled absentmindedly, pulling out his phone and typing out a message.

“Who are you texting?” Oikawa frowned, slightly jilted at being ignored.

“Bokuto. He says they’re going out tonight,” Kuroo hummed thoughtfully.

Oikawa scowled. “ _So_?” he asked defensively.

“ _So_ ,” Kuroo continued, “We should go out too. I know you’ve got something on your mind – probably has to do with Iwaizumi, right? See, the way you just narrowed your eyes tells me it does. I don’t wanna deal with your pissy ass until we see him next so let’s go out and you can talk to him and resolve whatever sexual tension is eating away at you,” he smirked.

“That has  _nothing_  to do with it,” Oikawa sighed flippantly. Still, he had to admit, he did feel a little guilty for the way he had shrugged off Iwaizumi. He hated it when Kuroo was right, but he wouldn’t feel better until he at least apologized to him. “Where are we going?” he sighed.

“Shinkiba,” Kuroo grinned.  

“Great,” Oikawa rolled his eyes.

It wasn’t that Shinkiba wasn’t a great gathering spot – or well, it  _would have been_ , were it not for the fact that both the police station and the firefighter station were far too close for his liking. Historically, it was one of the best drifting spots in Tokyo, considering its closeness to the Arakawa River, but over time, it had become more industrialized and the city decided to put both the police and firefighter stations right next to it.

Strategically speaking, it was a very good move on behalf of the city, but it made racing a lot harder, despite it being such a convenient location. Still, that didn’t stop some of the crazier people from hosting in Shinkiba every once in a while.

Apparently tonight, everyone was feeling lucky. Oikawa remembered that a few months ago he wouldn’t have so much as hesitated at hearing Shinkiba thrown out in discussion, but he had become more wary of his surroundings as of late. He had every reason to be, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like he was cutting back on his lifestyle for something he really wasn’t even a part of.

Maybe out of spite, or maybe out of his necessity to speak to Iwaizumi, he found himself agreeing, albeit with a nervous pit forming in his stomach.

Oikawa dropped Kuroo off at the hangar before returning home; when going to Shinkiba, the fewer cars, the easier it was to scatter. Semi was back from work at the ramen shop, which he insisted on keeping instead of quitting because apparently he didn’t care about his safety.

“Yo,” he greeted over a bowl of ramen. At least there were a few perks to him still working there, like free food.

“No cops out front today?” Oikawa asked, surprised by the lack of presence in front of his apartment. He discarded his shoes before walking in and dropping his keys on the kitchen table.

“Nah, apparently something’s going down at the train station in Morishita so everyone’s been called there,” he shrugged, finishing off his bowl. “Want some? There’s more in the bag next to the stove,” he pointed over to the white grocery bag with a cartoon chicken doodled on it.

“Thanks,” Oikawa nodded, pulling out a bowl for himself. He noticed there was an extra one left for Kuroo too, and he was oddly grateful that Semi was being thoughtful. He supposed the other man felt just as awkward as Oikawa did about the breakup between Kuroo and Tsukishima, considering it had only happened yesterday.

“Where’s Kuroo?” Semi noted as Oikawa sat down at the table across from him. 

“Went to get his M5.”

“Oh what the fuck, please tell me you’re not going to Shinkiba tonight,” he frowned disapprovingly, clasping his hands over the tables.

Oikawa snorted mid-chew. He wasn’t surprised that Semi knew about the gathering before he did. “Wanna come?” he asked instead, pretending like he wasn’t as worried about going as Semi was.

At least one good thing had come out of everything that had happened in the past seven months: Semi was a lot more mature than Oikawa had ever expected him to be.

“Fuck no. I may be stupid but I’m not suicidal,” he denied.

“You just said all the cops are out in Morishita,” Oikawa defended.

“Not  _all_ ,” Semi corrected immediately. He stood up from the table, a clear sign of his unwillingness to cooperate in Oikawa's plans for the night. “You know I won’t tell you not to go,” he said hesitantly. Oikawa raised his eyebrows in amusement at Semi’s cautious tone. “But… be careful,” he warned.

“Right, thanks,” he responded drily. Since when did Semi lecture  _him_? Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Oikawa rolled his eyes at his own pettiness, dropping the take-out bowl in the trash. “I’m going to shower. Kuroo should be home soon,” he waved a peace sign at Semi before moving to his room to grab a towel.

Not only did he smell like a garage and car parts, but he hoped that a shower would help clear his mind and help him think clearly about what he was supposed to say to Iwaizumi. The only thing it really did was make him feel sleepy, at least until Kuroo came home and urged him to change so they could go out.

* * *

For the first hour that they were in Shinkiba, Oikawa was completely convinced that Kuroo had lied to him. Iwaizumi and his crew weren’t even here; the only reason Oikawa had even come out was because he felt he needed to apologize to the other man for his cold behaviour. Iwaizumi was right after all; Oikawa  _had_  acted like he liked him, which he sort of did when Iwaizumi was being sincere and exuding all that strong confidence.

Shinkiba was nice, with the lights flickering over the Arakawa River. It was September now, but some of the decorations for Obon had still been left up. The scene was very picturesque, with glowing red and yellow lights flickering across the water – the only source of brightness in the otherwise dark alleyway. Unlike Ariake, Shinkiba was an open space. It was more dangerous, but it also felt more authentic.

Still, Oikawa wasn’t going to stick around if he didn’t have a reason to be.

“If you brought me out here as some sort of joke, I’m going to kill you,” Oikawa threatened for the umpteenth time that night, checking his phone once more for the time: 12:21 am. He sighed, before stuffing it back into the pocket of his black joggers and turning to glare at Kuroo instead. He zipped his black hoodie up further, protecting himself from the wind that was picking up thanks to the effects of being so close to the water.

“Relax, it’s been like fifteen minutes since we got here,” he rolled his eyes, more focused on the race that was about to start.

Oikawa let out a sound of annoyance. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s been  _fifty_  minutes, not fucking fifteen,” he snapped. “I’m going home. Where are your keys?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Aww, you were going to leave without saying ‘hi’ first?” Bokuto’s cheerful voice snapped Oikawa out of his annoyance.

“Hey Bokuto,” he greeted. “I saw you like three hours ago,” he reminded, nodding his head towards Daichi, Kyoutani and Iwaizumi who were standing behind Bokuto.

“Not important,” he waved dismissively, looking at Kuroo before grinning wickedly. “Show me who to bet on,” he said suddenly, moving away from Oikawa to push at Kuroo's back – walking him in the direction of the cars that were set to race.

“What the fuck jackass, wait for me!” Kyoutani yelled, grunting a ‘hello’ to Oikawa before running to catch up to where Kuroo and Bokuto were.

Oikawa frowned at their sudden departure, gears whirring in an attempt to figure out what Kuroo's plot was; Bokuto’s grin hadn’t been subtle at all. Whether Kyoutani had anything to do with it was still to be determined, but Oikawa didn’t trust Bokuto and Kuroo alone one bit.

“Hey, Oikawa,” Daichi said finally. “Sorry I didn’t get to see you today, but Iwaizumi said you and Kuroo were both very helpful. I look forward to working with you,” he said politely, even going so far as to bow slightly after his proclamation.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Dai-chan,” Oikawa grinned awkwardly. He saw Iwaizumi's eyebrows twitch in something akin to annoyance, but he ignored it. “Hope your recon mission was successful,” he prodded.

“Something like that,” Daichi chuckled awkwardly. “I’m actually not done, so I’ll see you later,” he promised, waving goodbye and taking his leave.

With Daichi’s departure, that left Oikawa and Iwaizumi alone. Or as alone as they could be with people walking around and between them at every chance.

“You don’t seem like you’re having fun,” Iwaizumi said bluntly.

Oikawa didn’t even try to deny the accusation. “What gave me away?”

“I don’t know, the lack of jabs?” Iwaizumi smirked, watching the way Oikawa's eyebrows furrowed the unfurrowed as if he was trying to figure out the answer to a puzzle.

After a few moments he narrowed his eyes and asked, “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

Iwaizumi laughed loudly, eyes crinkling up with the gesture. He smiled, genuinely at Oikawa before nodding. “As you very well know, I  _am_  capable of joking every once in a while,” he said through a smirk.

“Huh, who would have thought. You’re always so  _serious_ ,” Oikawa pondered more to himself. It was strange how exchanging a few words with Iwaizumi could make him go from feeling unsure and hesitant to relaxed and confident. “Can we talk?” he asked before his earlier feelings could return.

“Sure,” Iwaizumi agreed easily.

Oikawa didn’t know where they were going, but he followed Iwaizumi, quickly falling into step with him. The farther the away the noise from the music and the loud crowd got, the more it was obvious to Oikawa that they weren’t just moving off to the side to have a conversation.

When Iwaizumi opened the door to his car, nodding his head at the passenger seat as an indication for Oikawa to get in, Oikawa hesitated for only a second before he did just that. He didn’t ask where they were going, even though he probably should have, but by the time he thought to bring it up, Iwaizumi was pulling to a stop atop a flat, dirt-ridden hill looking down at the Arakawa River.

It wasn’t so far from their gathering spot. In fact, when Oikawa stepped out, he could clearly see the outlines of people walking around, and the bright headlights from the cars. It was nice, being able to see a birds-eye-view of the scene.

“How’d you know about this place?” Oikawa turned to ask Iwaizumi. Despite having lived in Koto-ku for a few years now, and having frequented Shinkiba multiple times, he had never known a place like this – so close to them – existed.

“I used to drive around the city a lot, mapping it out,” Iwaizumi shrugged.

“Escape routes?” Oikawa asked plainly, moving around to the front and leaning his hands back against the hood of Iwaizumi's Road Runner.

Iwaizumi moved from where he was to join him. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t have been very helpful if I got caught,” he continued.

“Hmm,” Oikawa acknowledged.

They fell quiet after that, leaning against the hood of Iwaizumi's car with their palms flat against it and their legs stretched out in front. The distant sound of music and the flow of the river were the only things keeping them from being completely engulfed in silence. Neither of them looked at one another – only straight ahead, until Oikawa turned his head, which prompted Iwaizumi to do the same.

“I’m sorry about this afternoon,” he admitted.

“What are you talking about?” Iwaizumi frowned.

“You were right when you called me out for avoiding you,” he continued, ignoring the way Iwaizumi's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “With all the shit that’s happened in the past seven months, I didn’t give you a chance – I thought you were trouble the moment I saw you, and when you wanted my help, it felt kind of good being able to say no because I had wrongfully associated you with the likes of the yakuza,” he admitted.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Iwaizumi said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck that was steadily growing redder.

“I do,” Oikawa insisted. “When it was me who needed something from you, I was very nice and you agreed, which I’m grateful for, but I guess a part of me still thinks it’s dumb to trust you,” he chuckled warily. “So yes, I was avoiding you, but I’ve decided that if you’re going to put your trust in me, the least I can do is return that favour. I’ve been fucked over once, so what’s a second time, right?”

He was surprised when he saw Iwaizumi's face harden in anger. “That’s not funny,” he said sternly. “I wasn’t lying when I said we weren’t yakuza. We’re not, and you know nothing about how I feel about them.”

“I know, I’m so—”

“Quit apologizing and let me finish!” Iwaizumi snapped. “I know why you hate them,” he continued, a lot more patiently than his previous tone implied. “You’ve got every right to, and I appreciate you saying you’ll trust me in this, but don’t imply that I’ll fuck you over. I won’t; neither will Kyoutani or Daichi or Bokuto, but if you think that, it kind of defeats the purpose of trust, doesn’t it?”

Oikawa hesitated, sighing deeply. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he admitted after a few moments of silence. “Start over?” he stuck his hand out, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that told him there was no way they could  _start over_  when Iwaizumi didn’t even know how they started in the first place.

“Start over,” Iwaizumi confirmed, taking Oikawa's hands in his own and giving it a firm shake. “We should – oh  _fuck_ ,” Iwaizumi cursed, eyes landing on something in the streets below. “Get in the car,” he demanded, giving Oikawa a slight push to get him going.

“What are you talking about?” Oikawa frowned, annoyance seeping into his features.

“Just get in the fucking car. There are unmarked cruisers down there, we need to  _leave_ ,” he growled out, taking out his phone, ignoring Oikawa completely.

If it weren’t for the fact that Iwaizumi's words were weighing down on Oikawa, he would have been annoyed at being spoken to like that. Just because they were working together  _didn’t_  mean that Iwaizumi could tell him what to do.

“Hello, Bokuto? Yeah, I’m fine, listen man, you need to get out of there. You’ve got maybe forty-five seconds before the cops are on you,” Iwaizumi spoke into the phone, shifting gears and turning back onto the road they had taken to come up there in the first place. “I know, I’m sorry, but you don’t have time,” he continued, jerking around a corner, as he made a sharp left. “Yeah, Oikawa's with me. Okay, that’s good, I’ll see you soon,” he sighed, somewhere between annoyance and relief as he hung up.

“Where are we going?” Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “I can’t just leave Tetsu behind.”

“You’re not; he’s with Bokuto,” Iwaizumi placated.

Oikawa pursed his lips. “What about Kyoutani? And Daichi?”

“They’re fine,” he reassured.

“How’d you know those were unmarked cruisers? Do you have some kind of super human vision or something?” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Iwaizumi groaned. “Do you ever run out of things to say?”  

“Are you going to be honest with me or do you want me to retract my trust statement?” Oikawa shot back.

“Fine,” Iwaizumi huffed out. “Tonight was part of Daichi’s recon. He and Tendou are working together and we got Tendou to leak information to some of the other guys he knows are working for the Adachi clan in Tsukiji.”

“But this isn’t Tsukiji,” Oikawa frowned.

“Exactly. This isn’t Tsukiji. They’re not supposed to have any say in Koto-ku, and yet, they do. They’re gaining favours with the police here. By selling out some street racers, they hold something over the police’s head, and that’s their leverage,” he explained.

“That’s fucked up,” Oikawa said angrily. “It’s also fucked up that you didn’t say anything to me about it, considering I’m the one who even gave you the hint about the Adachi clan expanding. Bit rich of you don’t you think, especially with that whole trust talk we just had and how you wouldn’t fuck me over?” he snapped.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi admitted embarrassedly.

“Don’t do it again,” Oikawa managed to mumble out, feeling his anger dissipate at Iwaizumi's sincere expression.

He took the chance to look over at his profile as he drove. He could see the way Iwaizumi's jaw was clenched tightly – whether it was out of annoyance or distress, he couldn’t tell. As they turned into the busier parts of the city and slowed down to a stop at a red light, Iwaizumi turned his head to face Oikawa, catching him in his gaze. “Let me make it up to you,” he insisted.

“How?” Oikawa asked honestly. Because it was always easy to say something so frivolous, but hard to follow through.

“We’re working together now, so ask me anything you want to know. I’ll answer honestly,” he promised.

The deal sounded genuine, but Oikawa was still hesitant. He was saved the trouble of answering right away by the ringing of his own phone.

“Hello?” he answered, noticing Kuroo's name on the caller ID. “Yeah, I’m fine, are you? Where are you going? Okay, that’s alright, thanks for the heads up,” he repeated, as Kuroo informed him he was driving back with Bokuto because he didn’t have anyone to pick him up from the hangar if he went to drop his car off. “Hmm?” he asked, as Kuroo repeated his question. “You’re taking me home, right?” Oikawa asked Iwaizumi, turning away from the phone.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agreed.

“Yeah, he’s taking me home. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me know if you need me to pick you up from the hangar, okay? Love you too, loser,” he smiled, hanging up.

“Kuroo?” Iwaizumi asked quietly.

“Yeah, I guess he’s crashing at your place tonight. Bokuto said he could or something,” Oikawa shrugged. Iwaizumi nodded but didn’t say anything else.

The rest of their drive was silent. It was cold outside, but inside Iwaizumi's car, he couldn’t help but feel stuffy and hot. He wiggled around, wondering what the best way to take off his jacket would be before settling on the fact that he should just suck it up. if Iwaizumi noticed his fidgeting, he either ignored him or didn’t think it was strange.

When they arrived at his apartment building, Oikawa expected Iwaizumi to say something but he didn’t. After a few moments of awkwardly waiting, he muttered, “Well, thanks for the ride,” before opening the car door.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said suddenly, reaching out and taking hold of his wrist. He let go as soon as Oikawa turned his head, cocking it slightly as if to urge Iwaizumi to say what he had stopped Oikawa for. “Are you mad at me?” he asked seriously.

The look on his face made Oikawa's lips twitch in a smile. “Is that why you were so silent the whole drive here?” He couldn’t help but think the concern was cute, but that was a dangerous thought to have so he immediately shoved it to the back of his mind. When Iwaizumi didn’t answer, he really did chuckle this time. “Annoyed? Maybe. Mad? No,” he said honestly. “Don’t worry though, I’ve decided to take you up on your offer to make it up to me, so you won’t have anything to feel bad about soon enough,” he promised. “Wanna come over?” he asked in a moment of idiocy.

“What?” Iwaizumi asked, startled by the offer as much as Oikawa was.

“Uhm, Tetsu's intruding in your space, so it’s the least I can do. Plus, it’s late,” he said in an attempt to make excuses for his own stupidity.

“It’ll take me fifteen minutes to drive home, from here,” Iwaizumi reminded.

“Do you want to make it up to me or not?” Oikawa snapped.

 _Do you want to come up or not_  was the real question he wanted to ask. He had to stop himself from saying that aloud though. There was no denying that Iwaizumi was hot, but Oikawa had to be professional. Still, he couldn’t stop the attraction he felt to Iwaizumi.

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “Let me park my car and I’ll be up,” he promised.

Oikawa nodded, stepping out and making his way up the metal stairs to the second floor. He watched Iwaizumi drive around the corner in search of somewhere to park his car for the time being. Oikawa had no idea what he was doing, but as he pushed his key into the lock and entered his apartment, he tried to convince himself that the only reason he had invited Iwaizumi in was to settle whatever trust barrier there was between them.

It was strictly  _professional_. Or at least, that’s what he tried to convince himself of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise the action is coming! i've just been trying to build the relationships so that when the story starts moving really quickly, things don't feel too rushed between the characters! that being said, i'd love to hear what y'all think about the pacing and if u think that it needs to speed up a little, i'd be down to do that c: 
> 
> \- Oikawa's [outfit](https://static.tumblr.com/d3rmfjl/YVip1r28g/3e15d64fff650d0180df3f16ba9e0ead.jpg)
> 
> next time:  
> \- a small look into Oikawa and Iwaizumi's childhood  
> \- Semi's a cheeky asshole lmao
> 
> i hope u can drop me a comment/kudos if u enjoyed this chapter ♡


	10. nothing but love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _tell me what do you see_  
>  _when you looking at me_  
>  _who I'm mission to be_  
>  _what I'm destined to be_  
>  _I done been through the pain and the sorrow_  
>  _the struggle is nothing but love_  
>  _I'm a soldier, a rider, a ghetto survivor_  
>  _and all the above_  
>  \-- **all the above** \- maino ft. t-pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends! it's been a while but i promise this fic is still going! we're getting closer to being in the thick of things and i hope you're excited about the little bits of revelation we get from Iwaizumi's childhood in this chapter. i know i've been pretty terrible about answering comments but i promise i am going to get to them all! i love seeing your feedback and i'm so grateful for all the readers who are still here and supporting me, so thank you! ♡

There were very few times in Iwaizumi's life when he was unsure about himself. He had grown up knowing that any decision he made had to be firm and one that he would back himself on through and through because second chances weren’t so easy to come by where he was from. He had learned to be quick at accepting or declining invitations, and he had learned how to assess a situation in a matter of seconds over time through experience; whether they were his own, or the experiences of those around him.

Most of all, he knew how to separate what he wanted from what was  _right_ , but when Oikawa asked him if he wanted to come over, for some reason, he wasn’t able to distinguish between those two things anymore.

It took him a few seconds to register the question, at which point Oikawa had gone from cheerful to slightly agitated. Iwaizumi would later try to tell himself that this was the reason he had accepted Oikawa's invitation, and certainly not because he  _wanted_  to… but he had. With that, he found himself looking for a parking spot. Thankfully, there were a few empty spots in the alleyway behind Oikawa's apartment building.

Iwaizumi hated that he checked his appearance in the rear view mirror, fixing his tousled hair slightly before making his way up the stairs to Oikawa's apartment. He sent off a text to Bokuto saying he wouldn’t be home tonight and had weirdly enough gotten a lot of winking faces back at him.

“You didn’t have to knock,” Oikawa chuckled, moving aside to let Iwaizumi in.

“I didn’t know if you were in the bathroom or something. It would have been rude to come into your home uninvited,” he defended.

The teasing smirk on Oikawa's face did nothing for the heat that was threatening to spread over Iwaizumi's face.

“Well, I seem to recall you had no problem doing that once before,” he reminded. “And you were invited this time,” he added, moving aside to the kitchen, leaving Iwaizumi feeling stupid and embarrassed near the front door.

He didn’t respond – he wasn’t sure if he would be  _able_  to respond to that comment. It seemed like when it came to Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi made a lot of decisions he wasn’t able to back himself up on like he thought he would be.

Oikawa didn’t seem to mind the silence, if the way he hummed thoughtfully to himself was anything to go by. Iwaizumi slipped his shoes off. Noticing the lack of house slippers, he padded through the apartment in his socks, hoping that Oikawa didn’t mind. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do as Oikawa fiddled with tidying up the dish rack. He was being very  _normal_ , and for some reason it was unnerving.

Everything Iwaizumi had heard about Oikawa didn’t even come close to being normal, and yet, here he was, putting away dishes and humming a song to himself. It was strange, but also endearing, and once again, Iwaizumi found himself regretting the fact that he accepted Oikawa's invitation up to his apartment.

He couldn’t deny that part of the regret also came from the fact that he had promised Oikawa that he would tell him anything he wanted, but a larger part was  _definitely_  just from Oikawa's presence.

“You can sit down, don’t be so stiff, I’ll be over in a bit,” Oikawa said, lips curved up in amusement as he nodded his head to the couch in the living room. 

Iwaizumi swallowed down the lump in his throat that was making it difficult for him to speak before making his way over to the couch. He sat down, uncomfortably so, even if the cushions were soft and made him want to melt right into them. He noticed a rolled up futon and some folded blankets on the side. He remembered that Semi was staying with Oikawa, but from the front door, he noticed that there were quite a few doors in the hallway leading away from the kitchen and the living room.

It wasn’t his place to pry though, so he didn’t ask, but he did continue observing Oikawa's apartment for a lack of anything better to do. It was small, but not crowded. It was clear that Oikawa had been living there for a while; there were quite a few movies splayed across the tv stand, some magazines on the coffee table and little trinkets that were clearly used often.

“Want something to drink?” Oikawa called out from the kitchen.

“Uhm, sure,” he agreed.

“Beer?” Oikawa asked again, opening the fridge and showing Iwaizumi what he had. He nodded, and Oikawa grabbed a case, padding over to the living room and sat down next to Iwaizumi on the couch.

In the time that it had taken Iwaizumi to park his car and come up to Oikawa's apartment, the other man had discarded his jacket and zip-up hoodie. He was only wearing a pair of black joggers and a simple white t-shirt now, but for some reason, Iwaizumi couldn’t help but think the simplicity of it made him look more attractive. It was stupid, because his skin was so pale that the white t-shirt should have washed him out, except it just accentuated the tiny moles he had on his arms.

 _Cute_ , Iwaizumi couldn’t help but think, then immediately flushed at the thought.

“Are you hot? I can open a window or something,” Oikawa commented, noticing the redness on Iwaizumi's face.

“Nah, it’s fine, I’m overdressed for inside anyway,” he denied, standing up and discarding his own sweatshirt. He was far more comfortable now, and definitely less hot, wearing a dark grey t-shirt.

“You know, you don’t have to tell me anything about your life,” Oikawa said conversationally, cracking a can open and taking a sip. “I told you I wasn’t mad, so you have nothing to make up for,” he added.

Iwaizumi furrowed his brows at the confession. “So then why’d you ask me to come over?” he asked bluntly.

Oikawa laughed, like he was surprised by Iwaizumi's question but also amused. “I don’t know, guess I was bored and wanted to hang out,” he shrugged, lifting the can up to his lips once more, but Iwaizumi didn’t miss the pink tinge on his cheeks that had nothing to do with the fact that he was drinking.

“You wanted to  _hang out_?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, Semi’s such a bore. He goes to sleep early every night and wakes up at the crack of dawn with his godawful alarm. He’s a terrible roommate,” Oikawa concluded.

Iwaizumi snorted, reaching out for his own beer. He lifted it to his lips and took a large gulp before placing it on the coffee table in front of him. “And Kuroo?”

“Tetsu’s only been living with me for one day,” he said tersely.

Iwaizumi knew when someone didn’t want to talk about a topic. He wasn’t going to pry – especially not while he was in Oikawa's own home. “You’re close, huh?”

“Me and Tetsu?” Oikawa asked, cocking his head to the side in what was far too cute looking on a grown man. “Yeah, we’ve known each other since our first year of high school. He was super weird; came up to me on the very first day and was like ‘I know who you are,’” he laughed at the memory. “Who the fuck says that?” he asked, eyes brightening. “Anyway, yeah, it’s been ten years now,” he said thinking back.

“That’s a long time,” Iwaizumi whistled. “You can tell that you’re close,” he agreed.

That seemed to make Oikawa happy. “Yeah? Well, he’s like my brother so I would hope so,” he chuckled. “As weird as he is, I’m glad we became friends,” he agreed.

“That’s kind of like me and Bokuto. I didn’t like him at first – thought he was such a weirdo. He comes off as an idiot, but he’s actually pretty smart, and loyal to a fault. The only one who could beat him in a contest of loyalty is probably Kyoutani,” he admitted.

Iwaizumi was unsure why he was telling Oikawa this, but in a way, he didn’t feel like he had to. He didn’t talk about his family unless he  _wanted_  to, and Oikawa's admission that he wasn’t obligated to say anything just made him want to do it, regardless.

“No wonder he and Tetsu get on so well. They’re both weirdos,” he snorted through his drink, thinking it was way funnier than it actually was.

Watching Oikawa laugh had Iwaizumi stifling his own laughter until he couldn’t hold it any longer.

“Oh my god,  _Iwa-chan_!” Oikawa scolded. “You spit your drink all over me,” he frowned, feigning anger, but the way his lips twitched upwards gave away his amusement.

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi flushed, from the use of the nickname as much as his actions. “One sec, I’ll grab a towel for you,” he said quickly, getting up and moving to the kitchen.

“Don’t grab the dirty one,” Oikawa reminded, as if Iwaizumi was going to do that. He rolled his eyes at Oikawa's prompt, grabbing a dry one from a drawer instead before padding back over to Oikawa and dropping it on his face.

“I invite you into my home, offer you a drink, and this is how you repay me?” he challenged, huffing slightly as he took the towel and wiped it across his neck. He frowned when he looked down and noticed a few stains on the collar.

Iwaizumi was about to apologize again when Oikawa took the initiative to pull his shirt over his head and the words died on his mouth. The only sound that came out was choked, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Iwaizumi was too distracted by the slope of Oikawa's shoulders and his toned stomach, he might have been embarrassed of himself for letting out that noise.

“What?” Oikawa asked, hair fluffed from the shirt that had just pulled at it. “Don’t tell me you’re  _embarrassed_ ,” Oikawa teased.

He wasn’t sure he could reply without sounding like an  _idiot_. Iwaizumi had seen people shirtless before; hell he’d seen people  _naked_  before, and yet for some reason the sight of Oikawa's shirtless body in front of him made him want to throw his face in his palms.

“Is this what you meant by you want me?” Oikawa continued, obviously having too much fun at Iwaizumi's expense.

“ _Need_ ,” Iwaizumi corrected out of habit, choosing the opposite of what Oikawa had said. It was instinct now, but that didn’t stop him from realizing a moment too late what he had just said. “Oh fuck, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, watching with a slight bit of satisfaction at how Oikawa's face was turning pink.

With his shirt off, it was easy to see the flush spread down his neck and over his clavicles down to his nipples that Iwaizumi suddenly wanted to put his mouth around and just  _pull_.

“Sorry, let me go change. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Oikawa said stiffly, putting one foot out to stand up.

“What happened to hanging out?” Iwaizumi blurted out, mind to mouth filter betraying him completely. He didn’t have anything to worry about though, because in an instant, Oikawa's contemplative frown turned into something much softer: a hesitant smile.

In that moment, Iwaizumi was grateful that Oikawa wore his usual haughty poker face around him most of the time; if he let his guard down like that too often, Iwaizumi wasn’t sure he’d have the restraint to hold back. Oikawa was like a moon flower: blooming at night. He tried so hard to keep up appearances; Iwaizumi couldn’t blame him for being so guarded but he found himself opening up to the possibility of there being far more than met the eye with Oikawa Tooru.

“Didn’t know you were that bored,” Oikawa deflected the question, getting up before Iwaizumi could retaliate.

The moment he disappeared into his room, Iwaizumi felt himself release a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in. There wasn’t a moment that he was around Oikawa that didn’t make him feel like he was amped up on adrenaline. The break he got from feeling the blood rush through every part of his body was short-lived. Oikawa soon emerged, from his room, this time changed into a pair of sweats and a grey t-shirt with a cartoon alien on it. Iwaizumi couldn’t help the small snort that escaped him at the sight.

“ _What_?” Oikawa asked tetchily.

“Nothing, I just didn’t take you for such a nerd,” Iwaizumi laughed, trying and failing to hide his amusement behind his words.

“Don’t be an asshole. Without this  _nerd_ , you wouldn’t have a fighting chance,” he huffed, sitting back down, albeit with a noticeable distance between himself and Iwaizumi this time.

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi apologized, sobering up at the miffed expression on Oikawa's face.

“Whatever,” Oikawa rolled his eyes, reaching for his unfinished can of beer, busying his lips with the drink instead. He tucked his legs up to his chest, placing a couch cushion between them and his chest for more comfort.

“I used to catch bugs when I was a kid,” Iwaizumi blurted out. He didn’t know what possessed him to say such a thing, but with the way Oikawa's eyes narrowed, he knew he wasn’t getting out of it without a better explanation. “I mean, there weren’t a lot of things I could do for fun in Ueno. My dad was super paranoid – probably would have kept me locked up in the house all day if he could but my grandmother was far more lenient. She claimed that our living conditions shouldn’t prevent me from doing things other kids would do,” he elaborated, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt awkwardly.

“Iwa-chan, you don’t have to tell me about your life. I already told you that you didn’t have to make it up to me,” Oikawa responded, face flushed and words sounding just as awkward as Iwaizumi felt.

“It’s fine,” Iwaizumi waved him off, letting one hand hang over the couch, turning his body to face Oikawa's in an attempt to wave off some of the discomfort. “Catching bugs was the most fun I could have. My grandmother would come with me because my dad was still worried about letting me go off on my own. Not that she’d have been much help, but for some reason he thought the guys in the neighbourhood would be decent enough to not hurt an old lady. They weren’t,” he added, thinking back to the things he had seen happen.

“Your grandmother…” Oikawa trailed off.

“What? Oh no, she’s fine. She lives in Okinawa now; still as tough as ever,” he smiled fondly, thinking back to how she’d always been his strength. He didn’t have a mother figure growing up, but his grandmother had always been enough. Her, and Kyoutani’s mother were the only women he would ever need in his life.

Between them he wasn’t given the chance to regret or even miss a mother of his own. He wasn’t stupid; even without his dad giving him an outright explanation he knew his mother had left before he was old enough to remember. It wasn’t uncommon to come from half a family growing up where he had in Ueno. Whether it was from drugs, physical and mental illness, or just unfaithfulness, most families weren’t complete.

No one judged where he came from because no one had the  _right_  to judge. Everyone was imperfect in their own way but it was that imperfection that instilled the need to survive in all of them. Most of the kids in his neighbourhood found survival through the gangs but that wasn’t the kind of place Iwaizumi had ever wanted to end up.

Oikawa nodded at the explanation, using his free hand to rub at his ankle. “Is that how you met Kyoutani? Did he like to catch bugs too?” he pressed slowly.

“Nah,” Iwaizumi chuckled. “He was my neighbour. We lived across from one another, and he was so fucking annoying, always following me around. I guess he still does that though, huh?” he asked amusedly.

His words held no bite; Kyoutani may have been annoying, but he was also one of the most trustworthy people Iwaizumi knew. They had been through a lot together, and bonds like those were hard to break or betray.

“What about your dad?” Oikawa asked, averting Iwaizumi's gaze at the personal question.

“He lives in Okinawa too. After I started taking on jobs that weren’t just dangerous for me but for my family too, I figured they should move. He really didn’t like me for a long time for it, but I think he’s happy now. I haven’t spoken to him in a few months though – haven’t seen him in a few  _years_ ,” he admitted. “That just makes you think I’m a dick though, right?” Iwaizumi asked embarrassedly.

The admittance that he hadn’t seen his family whom he was on relatively good terms with in so long made him feel as guilty as he deserved to. With the way things were worsening between the yakuza clans in Tokyo however, he didn’t think he was going to be able to see them any time soon. Okinawa was far from Tokyo but that didn’t mean his family couldn’t be used against him, and Iwaizumi would be damned if he dragged them into a mess he swore to always keep them away from.

“Nu-uh,” Oikawa denied, closing his eyes for a few moments. His voice brought Iwaizumi back to their conversation, but the vagueness of it all caused a cloudy haze to rack his brain. “I haven’t seen or spoken to either of my parents since the end of high school. I don’t think that’s going to change though. Does it make me a dick for throwing away everything my parents worked for to get me where I was?” he asked seriously.

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be rhetorical question or not. He didn’t know anything about Oikawa's life before he had become a street racer – only what the media had printed about him, which he knew not to trust from his own personal experience. With the way Oikawa was staring at him expectantly though, Iwaizumi felt like he had to respond.

He settled for shaking his head, earning him a short, mirthless laugh from Oikawa.

“We’ve all got a story,” Oikawa shrugged.

He held back his retort about how Oikawa wasn’t so accommodating when they had first met. In the span of a few weeks, they had come a long way and he’d be damned if he ruined that by believing that people couldn’t change their opinions.

The silence between them was broken by Oikawa's shuffling. “What do you want to watch?” he asked, kneeling in front of the tv stand, pulling out an array of movies to choose from. Most of them were space-themed, if the short look at the covers that he got were anything to go by.

“Whatever you want, I’m not picky,” he shrugged, re-adjusting himself into a more comfortable position as Oikawa went ahead and put a DVD into the player.

He shuffled back moments later, throwing a spare blanket from one of the armchairs at Iwaizumi before grabbing another one for himself. “Just remember, you said you weren’t picky,” Oikawa said, shooting Iwaizumi a grin before turning his attention back to the screen.

Iwaizumi didn’t even need to ask him what that meant; when the opening credits to  _Cowboys & Aliens_ appeared on the screen, he resisted the urge to shove Oikawa off the couch. Oikawa, sensing that he was unimpressed, laughed loudly at Iwaizumi's unamused expression, nudging him slightly with his foot in an attempt to make him ease up. In reality, it wasn’t all that bad of a movie – Oikawa could have picked something way worse – but the western theme wasn’t his style.

Still, when he felt Oikawa stretch his legs out over the couch to the point where they ended up in Iwaizumi's lap instead, he couldn’t help but think that maybe the movie wasn’t such a bad idea.

He didn’t pay much attention to it anyway – not when the subtitles sucked, and his English wasn’t good enough to get through it with listening alone; and  _certainly not_  when Oikawa fell asleep through the movie. He was far too busy staring at the way Oikawa's chest rose and fell slowly with each serene breath he took, how calm and sincere the smile on his face felt and how badly Iwaizumi wanted to reach over and flick that small tuft of hair that had fallen across his forehead out of his eyes.

He didn’t do it though – only stayed still so as to not disturb Oikawa and at some point during the movie, he fell asleep from the placidity in the air as well.

* * *

Waking up was Oikawa's least favourite part of the day. The grogginess that he felt, no matter how good of a rest he had gotten was something that would never go away. Waking up with a sore back just made the experience even worse. So when he woke up the next morning, eyes bleary from the lack of sleep, back aching from having passed out on the couch, and legs numb from the unknown weight on top of them, he wasn’t really sure why he wasn’t as annoyed as he should have been.

That was, until he lifted his head up a little and noticed the source of all the extra heat was none other than Iwaizumi Hajime. Oikawa recalled the events of the night before; he couldn’t stop the happy smile dancing across his lips until he realized his legs really were dead from Iwaizumi's own crushing them.

Somehow, they had both ended up passing out on the couch. It was big enough for one person to sleep on comfortably, but  _definitely not_  two grown men. They made it work, albeit uncomfortably if the way Oikawa was feeling was anything to go by. Still, the sight of Iwaizumi's peaceful, sleeping face, and the small peak of his abs from the way his shirt had ridden up during the night were enough perks to make him feel like it was worth it.

He really didn’t want to get up – one look at the clock in the room told him it was just before 8:30 am – but he figured he should do something to wake Iwaizumi up before the man felt a permanent crick in his neck.

While Oikawa had slept mostly straight on his back, Iwaizumi had ended up with the uncomfortable half sitting up, half lying down position. His neck was cushioned between the armrest and the back of the couch, in that uncomfortable corner that Oikawa just  _knew_  was going to be a hassle to get out of. But the sooner he woke Iwaizumi up, the less time the other man would have to spend feeling uncomfortably sore later.

“Hey,” Oikawa nudged with his legs, leaning over slightly so that he could prod Iwaizumi's arm with his hand too. “Iwa-chan, wake up,” he said a little louder. “ _Iwaizumi_ ,” Oikawa repeated, nudging him with a firm hand.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi cursed, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes.  _Cute_ , Oikawa couldn’t help but think; the thought was fleeting though as Iwaizumi suddenly shot up, only to let out the most disgruntled noise Oikawa had ever heard, hand reaching up to support his sore neck. “What the fuck happened?”

“You fell asleep on the couch,” Oikawa deadpanned.

“I can see  _that_ ,” Iwaizumi retorted grouchily.  _Still cute_ , Oikawa's betraying mind supplied unhelpfully. He bit his lip to prevent any embarrassing comments from spilling out. “Sorry, I’ll leave. I shouldn’t have stayed anyway,” he apologized sheepishly.

“Don’t be stupid – I invited you over, didn’t I?” Oikawa rolled his eyes. “And don’t leave yet, Semi always makes breakfast in the morning. He’s scared of you so you should use that to your advantage and request something extravagant,” he smiled, easing up the worried look on Iwaizumi's face.

He returned the smile, holding back a laugh of his own.

“Why are you always talking shit about me, and who the fuck ever said I was scared of Kuroo?” Semi’s annoyed voice called out from the hall. He stopped dead in his track when the living room came into view, eyes going wide at the sight of Iwaizumi. “Oh, what the fuck?” he cursed, glaring at Oikawa accusingly. 

“ _What_?” Oikawa defended. “Just because you’re not allowed to invite guests over into  _my_  home doesn’t mean I’m not,” he added before Semi had the chance to chew him out. “And don’t be rude, Iwa-chan wants pancakes for breakfast,” Oikawa added, smiling victoriously when Semi gave him the dirtiest look he could muster.

“I do not,” Iwaizumi cut in, shooting Oikawa a withering look. “I’m leaving anyway,” he said decisively, untangling himself from the blanket.

“Guess the fuck and run thing didn’t work out so well for you last night, huh?” Semi quipped, making Iwaizumi pause through folding the blanket he had slept with.

Oikawa's mouth fell open at Semi’s gall, but he wasn’t given the chance to retort with the way his eyes caught sight of Iwaizumi's hardened, set jaw. It would have been funny, if it weren’t for the fact that the truth hit too close to home. Oikawa knew that Semi was just being pissy because he refused to tell him all the details of Iwaizumi's plan – but that wasn’t his information to disclose. Besides, if he wanted in on it, he would need to play a lot nicer than he was with Iwaizumi.

“Don’t listen to him; he’s being a dick because he’s still hung up over Tendou,” Oikawa whispered, too loud to fake privacy. He eased up a little when Iwaizumi visibly relaxed.

“Wait,  _seriously_? I thought you were joking the other day…” he trailed off, giving Oikawa an inquisitive look before turning his attention to Semi. “Huh, I guess I could see it.”

“Oh fuck you, I’m better off without him,” he growled in annoyance, turning away to take out a pan from the kitchen cabinet. To Oikawa's delight, he pulled out some flour, eggs and milk as well, clearly setting up to make pancakes despite his earlier refusal.

“That’s only what people who get dumped say,” Oikawa sing-songed, settling down at the kitchen table. He waved Iwaizumi over and was pleased when the other man only hesitated for a few seconds before joining him, albeit a little awkwardly. “You know, Semi really  _is_  scared of you,” he re-iterated, this time voice low enough so that Semi actually couldn’t hear.

It was his way of saying that Iwaizumi didn’t have anything to worry about. He didn’t have to ponder long about whether Iwaizumi got the hint or not because within moments he had taken on a more relaxed state. It was weird, having  _breakfast_  of all things with Iwaizumi, especially with Semi in the house, but it didn’t feel as out of place as it probably should have.

By the time they were done eating, Semi was a spluttering mess and Oikawa had never laughed half as hard as he had done in the span of forty minutes.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi called to Semi as they cleared off the table. “You know, Tendou’s doing some work for me with this whole  _thing_ ,” he said waving his hand vaguely. “So if you ever want to help him, let me know,” he said slowly, looking to Oikawa for confirmation.

Semi paused in the middle of washing the dishes, eyes narrowed at Iwaizumi suspiciously before darting to Oikawa for a sign of betrayal. When he didn’t find one, he nodded slowly, returning to his task.

“That was nice of you,” Oikawa said sincerely as Iwaizumi put his shoes on. There was no reason for Oikawa to stop him from leaving now. Albeit, he didn’t have a reason before either other than the fact that Iwaizumi was good company, even if the mere sight of him made Oikawa want to straddle him.

“I wasn’t trying to be  _nice_ ,” Iwaizumi defended with a huff.

“Sure,” Oikawa smiled, tossing Iwaizumi his discarded sweatshirt. “Are you free tonight? I saw you have a pick-up truck and I’ve got a few bumpers and engine parts that can probably work on your cars but— ”

Iwaizumi cut him off with a nod. “Yeah, Bokuto and I will come by around midnight. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, okay, thank you,” he breathed out in a rush. Iwaizumi's lips quirked up at the words but he turned to open the door instead of saying anything else. “Bye Iwa-chan,” Oikawa waved, closing the door behind Iwaizumi after he had left.

“Ugh, you’re so fucking gross,” Semi mimed gagging motions with his hand, coming over and thumping Oikawa on the back too hard to be considered friendly.

“ _What_?” Oikawa snapped, happy mood replaced by a scowl.

“ _Bye, Iwa-chan_ ,” he mocked, face pulled up into a goofy smile that was supposed to be an imitation of Oikawa's own face. “Get wrecked, Oikawa,” he said in response to Oikawa's undignified whine, thumping him on the back once more.

Oikawa didn’t even have it in him to complain. He was  _already wrecked_  and Semi had no idea what the extent of it was.

“Shut up and go to work,” he grumbled, pushing Semi aside roughly. The action only made Semi laugh louder, despite having his shoulder shoved into the wall; Semi’s amusement just soured Oikawa's mood further.

* * *

Something had changed between Iwaizumi and Oikawa ever since that night Iwaizumi had spent at Oikawa's apartment. It wasn’t a bad change – probably  _good_  – but a change, nonetheless. There was no more awkwardness, no more tension and a  _lot_  more trust between them, which was working to both of their advantages. Their relationship had moved from being somewhat professional closer to  _friendship_. Maybe not quite there yet, but it  _was_  getting there.

September was speeding by, and the changes to the city were becoming more evident. The last time Oikawa had gone to visit Tendou in Tsukiji, he noticed a lot of stores had either been closed for the day, or had a permanent ‘for sale’ sign on the front door. That couldn’t have been a coincidence. The Adachi clan was weeding out the people they didn’t trust already, but thankfully, Tendou had stayed off their radar.

It was difficult to work on the cars when he and Kuroo still had a business to uphold. They could only really work for a few hours at a time, and even then, sneaking out to Iwaizumi's warehouse wasn’t the easiest of tasks. Ever since that night in Shinkiba, it was like the police had gotten tougher about their stalking.

They still didn’t know  _who_  it was that had ratted them out to the cops, but at least with the businesses in Tsukiji going out, there was one upside: that led them closer to the hidden weapons stocks.

That didn’t, however, give them more  _time_  to figure out where the weapons were located. They could be moved at any time, and once the old shops were replaced with new personnel, they would be back to square one. Semi had surprisingly taken Iwaizumi up on his offer to work with Tendou, which Oikawa had both been stunned and amused by. On one hand, Semi claimed he didn’t give a shit about Tendou but on the other hand, Oikawa knew that his reasoning for accepting Iwaizumi's offer had even a  _little bit_  to do with Tendou.

Tendou hadn’t broken up with Semi because he had  _wanted_ to. He just saw that Semi was heading in the wrong direction before anyone else did; the break up was supposed to be a wake-up call, but it had turned into quite the opposite. Despite Tendou’s upbeat, nonchalant nature, Oikawa knew he felt slightly guilty about the whole thing so this was a second chance for them  _both_. 

“You’re still here?” Iwaizumi's voice echoed around the empty garage.

Oikawa wheeled out from under Iwaizumi's black Road Runner, almost bumping his forehead against the misaligned front bumper on his way out. Iwaizumi looked at him amusedly, before he leaned forward and stuck an arm out for Oikawa to grab. He pulled him up, throwing a clean rag at him and pointed at his cheek, which Oikawa could only assume was covered in some kind of dirt or oil.

“Yeah, I thought I’d exchange the bumper like I’ve been telling you I would for a few days now,” he admitted sheepishly.

In Oikawa's defense, he had underestimated how much time he really had between working his real job – or pretending to with the lack of customers he had – and working this side job.

“You’ve been working hard,” Iwaizumi commented, taking the rag from Oikawa's hand and wiping at his cheek himself. Oikawa flushed at the proximity, batting away Iwaizumi's hand embarrassedly.

“Well, I can’t be the only one not working,” he reminded. “Tetsu’s got all the specs figured out and he’s been testing these new implants on Bokuto’s ride. Semi and Tendou have been working really hard in narrowing down potential hiding places, Dai-chan’s been— ” Oikawa spluttered as Iwaizumi covered his mouth with the rag.

Oikawa tore it away from his face, shooting Iwaizumi his most menacing glare. The height advantage did nothing for him, especially when he was wearing nothing but the spare jumpsuit that he kept permanently at Iwaizumi's garage now, and Iwaizumi was dressed –  _dammit,_  he was dressed  _well_.

“Why do you look like you’re going out?” Oikawa asked, angry retort forgotten as his eyes landed on Iwaizumi's black, white and brown striped oversized hoodie, and blue jeans, cuffed at the bottom to fit over his classic Timberlands. He had on a black snapback pulled over his head backwards and Oikawa couldn’t help but appreciate how it made his eyes pop and his jawline shine.

“Because I am,” Iwaizumi smirked, catching Oikawa's eyes as they wandered down his torso. “ _We_  are,” he corrected.

“What?” Oikawa asked, startled. “ _Where_? I can’t go anywhere looking like this,” he motioned to his current outfit. “I came here after work and my clothes look  _nothing_  like yours,” he motioned to the pile on the table that he had changed out of upon his arrival.

It was just a pair of jeans and a simple long-sleeved shirt. Nothing that looked remotely as nice as what Iwaizumi was wearing. “I smell too,” he continued at Iwaizumi ever-growing smirk.

“Use the shower upstairs,” Iwaizumi nodded his head back to the connecting warehouse. “And you can borrow my clothes,” he compromised.

Oikawa frowned. “Iwa-chan’s too short,” he reminded.

The comment made Iwaizumi scowl. Oikawa almost laughed at how sensitive he was about his height. In all honesty, Iwaizumi wasn’t short. He was just short in  _comparison_ , especially considering Oikawa, Kuroo and Semi were all taller than he was – although Semi was only marginally so, and it couldn’t have been easy to add new people to the group who were all taller than he was.

“Short, huh?” Iwaizumi challenged, stepping in closer to Oikawa's space.

“Sorry!” Oikawa apologized quickly. “Come on, where are we going?” he pressed.

Iwaizumi looked at him skeptically, wondering if Oikawa really was sorry; he either didn’t care about the apology or deemed it appropriate because in a matter of seconds, a relaxed look had overtaken his features.

“It’s Bokuto’s birthday tomorrow. We’ve got a tradition here that every year, the person whose birthday just passed has to win the upcoming birthday boy a car,” he explained.

“Where’s the fun in that? Your birthdays don’t change, so every year Bokuto gets a gift from you,” Oikawa frowned, moving aside some of the tool in his hand. “Hey, wait,” he paused, turning around. “When’s your birthday?” he asked, at the realization of what Iwaizumi was implying hit him.

“June 10th.”

“Oh, good, it was before I knew you,” Oikawa said aloud.  _Technically_  speaking, at any rate was the part he kept to himself.

“You’d have gotten me a birthday gift?” Iwaizumi chuckled.

“You wish,” Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Maybe a small one,” he added, resisting the urge to gloat at the way Iwaizumi's face broke out into a smile. “Anyway, what do you need me for though?” he changed the subject expertly.

“To drive back the new car,” Iwaizumi explained, as if to say ‘duh.’

“I know that much,” Oikawa rolled his eyes, packing up the toolbox. He set it aside, clearing some of the oil from the vicinity. Garage floors would always be dirty, but it helped to at least clean up a little bit at the end of the day. “I meant why me specifically,” he elaborated.

Iwaizumi shrugged, pocketing his hands into his jeans. “Can’t I want to just hang out with you?” he asked honestly.

The sincerity in his voice took Oikawa by surprise. The words took a few moments to settle in, but once they did his eyes widened and his lips parted, unsure how he was supposed to respond to a statement like that.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were getting attached,” Oikawa quipped, the underlying meaning evident in his tone of voice.

“And if I was?” Iwaizumi challenged.

Oikawa shook his head, biting his bottom lip nervously. “I’d tell you to stop,” he whispered, just loud enough for Iwaizumi who was standing an inch away from him to hear clearly.

For a moment, Oikawa thought Iwaizumi wasn’t going to respond, but then he stepped back, releasing Oikawa from that enamouring magnetic bubble he seemed to pull Oikawa towards whenever they were alone together. He smiled, face lighting up despite the hurt in his eyes, cheeks caving in to form the slightest of dimples, and he nodded, as if to say he understood where Oikawa was coming from.

“Do you want to come out with me tonight?” he asked, no sign of their previous conversation anywhere in sight.

Oikawa contemplated the offer. Every rational thought in his brain told him to decline the offer, and yet, he nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah,” he agreed. “On one condition though,” he added as an afterthought. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, prompting Oikawa to continue. “ _You_  drive the new car back. I get to drive yours,” he challenged.

The way Iwaizumi's eyes narrowed as he thought over Oikawa's proposal made him want to laugh, but he kept his composure for the sake of not ruining this once in a lifetime opportunity before it even had the time to set.

Begrudgingly, Iwaizumi nodded. “Fine. Go shower and I’ll get you something to wear,” he sighed, taking the items Oikawa was rearranging out of his hands and setting them aside. “I’ll clean up here,” he added at the look of protest on Oikawa's face.

“Okay, just don’t pick something ugly,” Oikawa teased, wiping his hands down on his dirty jumpsuit.

He could practically see the way Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at him, even though Oikawa's back was turned and he was already heading to the door. But he had gotten accustomed to Iwaizumi's peculiarities and habits in the short time that they had spent with one another.

 _Hanging out_  with Iwaizumi was dangerous because it made Oikawa question his every move, but he couldn’t deny that there was an attraction between them and even just  _talking_  to Iwaizumi was fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao i know a lot of people were like "WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN" at the end of the last chapter and i feel like i... disappointed but >.> this is _technically_ a slow burn and i'm actually killing myself with it but just so you know, you're not alone! i'm dying for them to get together too lol
> 
> next time:  
> \- night time rendez-vous with Iwaizumi  
> \- blast to Oikawa's past
> 
> \- Iwaizumi's [outfit](http://s2.marishe.com/0186123179@naver.com/marifactory67183688165251196.jpg)  
> \- Oikawa's [outfit](http://s2.marishe.com/0186123179@naver.com/marifactory7436633639606371673.jpg) (not mentioned till the next chapter but in case I forget lmao)
> 
> your comments/kudos mean a lot to me! ♡


	11. battle scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _the wound heals but it never does_  
>  _that’s cause you're at war with love_  
>  _you're at war with love, yeah_  
>  \-- **battle scars** \- guy sebastian ft. lupe fiasco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warning** : this chapter has mentions of homophobia. for anyone who feels uncomfortable about this, it isn't a main theme in the story. it's referenced as something that happened in the past.

Oikawa wasn’t sure why he was surprised at the quality of the clothes that were laid out for him on Iwaizumi's bed. He picked up the blue jeans, ripped slightly at both knees, and snorted, because the jeans certainly weren’t the kind Iwaizumi would wear, and yet, he had rightfully assumed they would fit Oikawa's taste. They were a little short at the ankles, so he cuffed them, and was pleased when they fit just right.

The plain black t-shirt next to the jeans  _definitely_  looked like something Iwaizumi would wear, and from the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent still lingering on it, Oikawa concluded that it  _was_  Iwaizumi's own t-shirt. As were the grey hoodie and the puffy, dark navy jacket underneath the t-shirt.

He gave his torso one last wipe with the towel before pulling the t-shirt over his head and then the hoodie and the jacket after that, tugging at the sleeves a little until they fit. Oikawa wasn’t used to wearing clothes that were  _just right_. Any time he borrowed clothes from Kuroo, they ended up being a little too big; now he knew how Kuroo felt when he complained about Oikawa being  _short_ , despite the fact that he was nothing close to that description.

Oikawa discarded the towel in the bathroom on his way back down, checking his hair in the mirror first. It was still wet, but the way it was currently styled would only add to that windswept look he was fond of once it dried properly.

“Whose jeans are these?” he asked, coming down the stairs to find Iwaizumi sitting on the couch in the living room.

The metal stairs clanged under the soles of his lowtop, black converse, alerting Iwaizumi of his arrival before Oikawa even spoke.

“Bokuto’s boyfriend’s. Don’t worry, I asked,” he said, as if that was what Oikawa was worried about. When Oikawa didn’t immediately respond to his explanation, he frowned, asking, “You don’t like them?”

“No, they’re fine. Nice, actually,” Oikawa corrected, patting his thighs. They cut straight, closer to skinny jeans although not quite and they fit him pretty well. “I was just surprised Bokuto’s got a boyfriend,” he laughed, answering honestly. He was also surprised about how observant Iwaizumi was, considering it had picked clothing that Oikawa would have chosen himself, but he kept that bit of shock to himself.

“Yeah, they’ve been dating since forever. I think they went to high school together,” Iwaizumi recalled, pushing himself up on his feet. He turned the TV off, grabbed his car keys from the coffee table in front, and led Oikawa to the front door.

Intrigued, Oikawa asked, “What’s he like? Does he work with cars too?”

He hadn’t heard of Bokuto having a boyfriend before. Not that Oikawa knew much about any of Iwaizumi's crew’s lives. They were nice people, but all his information he had weaseled out of Suga, who was incredibly stingy when it came to Daichi, and Semi who just knew all the bad stuff, which while Oikawa wasn’t going to pretend didn’t exist, didn’t quite make them sound very appealing.

Iwaizumi laughed, shaking his head in denial. “Akaashi owns a bar, actually. Went off to university after high school, but Bokuto hit a bit of a rough spot at that point in his life. His dad got into some trouble with the gangs and well, Bokuto owned up on his behalf.”

Oikawa nodded his head quickly, a sign that Iwaizumi didn’t have to continue. It wasn’t his business, and he wasn’t here to judge anymore. He had done enough of that already, but all the bitterness did was bring him was back to square one with nothing to show for it. Besides, being on Iwaizumi's good side played to his advantage.

“I’m going to assume he’s out with Akaashi tonight then,” Oikawa nodded his head to the empty warehouse.

“Yeah, and Daichi’s got a date with Suga although he called it  _hanging out_  and Kyoutani took Yahaba racing,” he ticked off, giving an explanation for why the place was unusually empty for a Saturday night.

Oikawa paused mid-stride. Iwaizumi noticed the delay and turned around, shooting him a quizzical look. “If this is your way of asking me out, you’d better up your game,” Oikawa remarked slyly, alluding to the fact that the rest of Iwaizumi's friends were on dates. It sort of sounded like this was one too, although Oikawa knew better than to assume or even  _hope_  that  _this_  was a date. 

“Trust me, you’d know if it was a date,” Iwaizumi said coolly, throwing open the door and keeping it held out for Oikawa to pass through.

The frankness of the statement had Oikawa's mind reeling back for a second; he couldn’t tell if it was an insult or a compliment and honestly, he was pretty sure Iwaizumi was capable of delivering both with the same tone if he really wanted to.

“Don’t take that as an invitation,” he said in response, following Iwaizumi out to his car, which he had already parked outside. His Road Runner was still in the garage; Oikawa not having had the time to properly tune it up, so they were taking his Ford Mustang, which in all honesty, was just as nice of a car as the Plymouth Road Runner was.

The way Iwaizumi drove though was enough to make any average car  _great_. Oikawa was taken in with his smooth turns, and the easy way he gripped the gearshift, fingers tapping against the knob with practiced ease. He looked like he was having a good time, and it reminded Oikawa that there were other people out there who drove for the sake of driving too. That it wasn’t just a  _vehicle_  to Iwaizumi, but a way of living.

“You’re staring,” Iwaizumi turned his head, catching Oikawa in the act. Oikawa flushed when their gazes met, unperturbed by the intense focus Iwaizumi was giving him instead of the road ahead.

The streets were bare, anyway, and Oikawa found himself thinking that he trusted Iwaizumi a lot more than he’d have liked to let on. He could tell Oikawa to jump, and he probably would with how sincere and captivating his expression was.

But that was what was dangerous about him. Iwaizumi was a natural born leader, and even people who were wary of him and aware of all the things he was capable of could be fooled into his persuasiveness.

“So are you,” Oikawa retorted once he found his voice, the words coming out barely above a whisper. “I was just thinking you look kind of like a race car driver, with how comfortable you look just cruising along,” he admitted, the words coming out before he had the chance to think them through.

Iwaizumi snorted, more so out of disbelief than mock. “I’ll take that as a compliment then, coming from the great Oikawa Tooru, the Under Eighteen formula race king of Japan,” he quoted, something that sounded straight from an article that had been printed about him. The thought immediately made Oikawa scowl. “That wasn’t meant to offend you,” Iwaizumi placated quickly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Oikawa dismissed the apology. Not because he didn’t care for it but because Iwaizumi had nothing to apologize  _for_. “That was a long time ago, anyway,” he added quietly under his breath.

If Iwaizumi wanted to press him on the matter, he didn’t. They fell into a comfortable silence until Iwaizumi pulled up to an empty dirt road in Aomi. It was a small event, but there was a gathering of people and cars lighting up the edge of the pier.

“A little far from home for you, don’t you think?” Oikawa teased, recognizing the area right away. He used to come down here a lot.

“But you like it, right?” Iwaizumi asked, reading into Oikawa's content expression.

“Yeah, the roads are kind of hard to navigate. I’m pretty sure some of the high school kids come up here to fuck it up on purpose every once in a while,” he laughed. “But the unexpectedness of it all just makes the race more thrilling. Are you going any closer?” he asked, tapping his knuckles against the window to indicate where the party was.

“Glad you think so,” Iwaizumi addressed. “Because you’re racing tonight, not me. Don’t lose, okay?” he added, confusing Oikawa.

“What do you mean  _I’m_  racing?” Oikawa's lips pulled down.

“Remember what I said back at the warehouse? We’ve got a tradition that the person whose birthday just passed has to race for the one whose birthday is coming up. You’re the one who complained about there being no fun in the repetition. Your birthday was in July, right?” Oikawa nodded. “Then technically, it’s  _your_  responsibility to race for Bokuto tonight,” Iwaizumi smiled, opening the car door and getting out with the keys still in the engine.

Oikawa opened his door, swapping places with Iwaizumi. “How’d you know when my birthday was?” he narrowed his eyes.

He didn’t comment on how Iwaizumi had now included him in their tradition. It spread a kind of warmth through him; he couldn’t quite place his finger on the exact emotion but it  _was_  pleasant, and he hid the smile that threatened to split his face at the thought.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Iwaizumi laughed, ignoring Oikawa's question.

Oikawa didn’t push it; birthdays weren’t that difficult to figure out. Someone with Iwaizumi's connections could probably find out easily if he wanted to.

He switched places with Iwaizumi, bringing them up to the thick of the race when prompted. Oikawa didn’t remember much about the driving, only that it brought back a familiar feeling of nostalgia as the thrill of drifting came back. The screeching tires, the sharp curve of the wheel, the smell of burnt rubber and dust trailing behind were all a part of racing. Whether it was his own car, or Iwaizumi's, it didn’t matter: after all, the driver was what made the race; the car was just a medium that could be controlled.

He couldn’t deny that seeing Iwaizumi's proud face at the end of the finish line didn’t boost his ego though. The scene was all too familiar, if entirely in reverse. He remembered meeting Iwaizumi for the first time about half a year ago now, and how  _Iwaizumi_  had been the one racing that night and how  _Oikawa_  had been the one admiring.

Now, it was the opposite, but that adrenaline coursing through his veins was the same.

“Who’s staring, now?” Oikawa said smugly, watching the way Iwaizumi's face split into an amused grin.

He pushed back from the hood of the car he had been leaning against, uncrossing his arms and reaching a fist out to meet Oikawa halfway. When their knuckles collided, Oikawa had to hold back the urge to maneuver his hand so that it was gripping Iwaizumi's in his own and pull him closer.

“Can you blame me? You’re good,” he complimented.

Oikawa's grin only grew at the praise. “But you already knew that,” he teased. “Don’t forget who kicked your ass.”

“That was cheating and you know it,” Iwaizumi retorted weakly.

“Cheating my  _ass_. Don’t be a sore loser, Iwa-chan,” he quipped, already moving away from Iwaizumi's comically appalled face.

The guy he had been racing was relatively new to the racing scene, but he had guts and a kind of fire that remained controlled even in the heat of the moment that made it known how much potential he had. But still, Oikawa didn’t feel bad taking the car from young man; after all, losing badly was always the first step in success. It was a pretty sweet ride: a Mitsubishi Eclipse in that cool blue colour Bokuto seemed fond of, steely just like the eyes of what was now the past owner.

They traded information and spoke briefly about the race, the other man even going so far as to ask Oikawa for advice on how he could improve. He was shocked by the demand for a few moments, before he quickly schooled his composure, diving into the details. Oikawa forgot what it was like to teach someone how to race, how to feel  _important_.

When he turned back, keys to the Mitsubishi Eclipse in hand, he was met, once again, by Iwaizumi's unrelenting stare.

“What?” Oikawa couldn’t help but laugh.

“You looked like you were having fun there,” Iwaizumi commented lightly.

“ _What_?” Oikawa chuckled louder. “Don’t make fun of me,” he pouted, punching Iwaizumi's shoulder before he tossed him the keys. “What would you have done if I lost your car?” he asked lightly, changing the subject.

“I’d have made you get it back,” Iwaizumi replied instantaneously.

“And if I couldn’t?” Oikawa challenged, walking in closer until there was only an inch of space left between him and Iwaizumi.

“I’d have made you pay me back some other way,” Iwaizumi responded seriously, eyes trailing down the length of Oikawa's body unconsciously before sliding back up to meet his demure regard.

“Sounds dirty,” Oikawa laughed, moving aside and breaking that momentary haze in an instant. Iwaizumi spluttered at the accusation, shoving Oikawa aside with a feeble sort of huff, the kind of sound that was only made out of necessity and not because he really meant it.

The tough guy act Iwaizumi put on was pretty endearing, if Oikawa looked past the fact that when it came down to it, Iwaizumi didn’t just put on an  _act_. He had no doubt that Iwaizumi was capable of making the tough, immoral decisions if he had to; if his livelihood and those of his family depended on it, Oikawa believed he would.

Oikawa had heard stories about him long before he met him, but there was another side to him: the side that he kept hidden and only allowed those he spent a considerable amount of time to see.

That was the side that pulled Oikawa in, the side that was truly dangerous.

“Nice race, man,” a voice called out, breaking Oikawa away from staring at Iwaizumi.

He looked up to see the face of that high schooler he had met on the train a few months ago. Oikawa had thought about this kid a lot ever since their first meeting, and how if he hadn’t invited Oikawa out to that race, he would never have met or slept with Iwaizumi in the first place. As much as Oikawa wanted to blame Suzuki Hisao, he was just a kid and he hadn’t made any of Oikawa's decisions for him.

“Who let you in to the big boys club?” Oikawa joked, clapping hands with the boy, who grinned at Oikawa's cheeky response and enthusiastic greeting.

“I came with my sister,” he jerked his thumb back to where Oikawa assumed the boy’s older sister was. “You said to hit you up the next time I saw you race. You were good,” he recalled, a hint of embarrassment gracing his otherwise confident features.

Oikawa nodded, the memory of that brief conversation coming back. “Yeah, come on, this isn’t my usual scene but,” he jerked his head to Iwaizumi's back that was retreating towards the Eclipse, keys in hand. “Iwa-chan, come back!” Oikawa shouted over the noise around them.

He heard a snort from Hisao, most likely at the use of the nickname, especially towards someone as tough-looking as Iwaizumi, but the snort was cut short when Iwaizumi turned around, scowl in place.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he growled upon his return. The only time Iwaizumi had any opposition to the nickname was when his reputation was at stake,  _apparently_.

“Oh shit,” Hisao whistled. “No need for introductions, I know who you are. Iwaizumi Hajime,” Hisao said bringing a fist up that Iwaizumi bumped confusedly.

“Uhm, excuse me?” he asked, looking to Oikawa for an explanation.

“He’s a kid I met on the train a few months back. Pretty into street racing and his sister seems to fuel his interest. Suzuki Hisao,” he said, as a proper introduction.

Iwaizumi relaxed a little with the information. He smiled encouragingly, asking Hisao, “You race?”

“I’m seventeen,” Hisao said, hiding a smile.

“Being a minor doesn’t stop you from being here, I bet it hasn’t stopped you from racing against anyone either,” Iwaizumi said knowingly.

Hisao laughed loudly, face heating up in embarrassment at being caught. “Fair enough. Guess I got used to having to lie about where I’ve been so often it’s just become habit,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’ve seen you race before,” he said, changing the subject. “You’re really good. That’s how you met, right?” he asked, looking between Oikawa and Iwaizumi curiously.

“What?” Iwaizumi furrowed his brows in confusion.

Hisao’s train of thought was evident to Oikawa the moment the question was out of his mouth. Before Oikawa could divert the conversation, however, Hisao elaborated. “Back in Chuo about half a year ago. We were there together,” he pointed between himself and Oikawa.

“We weren’t there  _together_ ,” Oikawa frowned, looking for some sort of escape route that would allow him to end this conversation.

“You saw me race?” Iwaizumi asked, attention focused entirely on Oikawa.

“Hisao-kun,” Oikawa said, tearing his gaze away from Iwaizumi's burning stare. “You probably don’t want your sister worrying about you,” he said, jerking his head towards the crowd of people where Hisao had indicated his sister was before.

The teenager looked at him skeptically. Oikawa was afraid he was going to argue, but he shrugged his shoulders once. “Alright, later,” he waved, shoving his hands into the pocket of his black jacket.

Iwaizumi waited for him to be out of earshot before he repeated himself. “You saw me race?” he asked again, clearly confused by the new information.

“I might have,” Oikawa admitted, unsure why he was pulling along the oblivious act, especially considering Iwaizumi's ever-rising eyebrows indicated that he didn’t believe Oikawa's nonchalance one bit.

“Why are you being so secretive about it?” Iwaizumi laughed.

The sound was relieving to Oikawa, if entirely condemning because Iwaizumi still  _didn’t know_  and now, Oikawa felt like he had to be the one to say something. Because really, it wasn’t fair of him to let Iwaizumi continue in his ignorance, was it?

“Are you embarrassed because you went out of your way to see me race?” Iwaizumi pressed. “Come on, you can admit it if you did,” he prodded.

There were only two options really, which were the  _only two_  options there were in any situation: lie or tell the truth. On one hand, telling Iwaizumi the truth would mean coming clean. They weren’t so far into their… acquaintanceship, if that was what this could even be called, that telling Iwaizumi the truth now wouldn’t be too detrimental. On the other hand, it could potentially ruin the relationship they had built up, and Oikawa didn’t want to go back to hating one another.

He liked being on friendly terms with Iwaizumi. As much as he hated everything that Iwaizumi stood for, Oikawa could see  _why_  he had made the decisions he had in life that had led him to where he currently was. At the same time, he was loyal and good company. Oikawa would miss his companionship.

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asked, a little more hesitant than the first time. He looked concerned, lips twitching every few seconds as if he was about to say something then stopped at the very last moment.

Oikawa realized he must have been silent for too long. “I’m not embarrassed,” he said, gathering his thoughts. “And I didn’t go out of my way to see you race. I just… met the kid on the train and he recognized who I was and then invited me out. I had no idea you were racing that night.”

Now that part wasn’t a lie. Not that Iwaizumi looked extremely convinced.

“You just went out because some random kid invited you?” Iwaizumi asked skeptically.

“I know it sounds stupid, but I was having a bad day and I really don’t want to talk about it,” he said, tone indicating that the request was more of an order.

“Okay,” Iwaizumi shrugged.

Oikawa had been worried he would have fought the demand. Iwaizumi wasn’t the kind of person who backed down or obeyed people without a reason, but this time, it seemed he had made an exception. It was out of character, but Oikawa didn’t feel like figuring out  _why_ ; he was just grateful for the fact that Iwaizumi had let him be.

Sure, telling him the truth would probably make him feel better… but the chance that it would blow up in his face was also present. So maybe he was acting like a coward, but Oikawa couldn’t really find it in himself to care. He was  _moving on_ ; he didn’t want to go backwards, and if he told Iwaizumi then he knew they’d talk about it, which would make moving on all the more difficult.

He jolted when he felt Iwaizumi's hand around his wrist, tugging him to the side. Before Oikawa could ask what Iwaizumi wanted, he noticed a car drive past them. He flushed at having zoned out for the second time in less than five minutes. If Iwaizumi saw the blush, he didn’t acknowledge it. He unwrapped his fingers from around Oikawa's wrist; the loss of warmth was noticeable but Oikawa schooled his frown expertly.

“Let’s go back. I’ll give you a ride home,” Iwaizumi suggested.

Oikawa had come to the warehouse with Kuroo after work but his friend had left before him. Oikawa had assumed someone else would give him a ride back but he didn’t feel like going home anymore. Seeing Hisao had made Oikawa nostalgic in a way he’d like to forget. Unfortunately for him, the source of his unease was standing far too close to him, completely unaware of what his presence was doing to Oikawa.

“Or, we can go somewhere else?” Iwaizumi suggested, reading through Oikawa's façade. Oikawa's face fell into a scowl. Being predictable wasn’t something he was known for yet Iwaizumi had no trouble reading his expressions or moods.

He contemplated saying ‘no’ but the illogical part of his brain reminded him that if Iwaizumi was the cause of his sullen mood it was only fair that the other man be the one to try and make it up. Even though Iwaizumi was indirectly at fault here, Oikawa couldn’t deny that his presence was calming.

“Sure,” Oikawa agreed, pausing only long enough to not make it seem like he was eager.

He was certain Iwaizumi was familiar with the game he was playing if the raised eyebrows and twitching smile were anything to go by. But he only shook his head amusedly, running his hand through his hair as he sighed before he went off in the direction of the Eclipse.

When he brought it back, Oikawa expected Iwaizumi to get out and switch back to his own ride, but he only rolled down the windows, and jerked his head to his car for Oikawa to get in. “You know how to follow, right?” he asked in a tone that was far too cocky for Oikawa's liking.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Oikawa narrowed his eyes.

“Just don’t get lost,” he chuckled, pulling the window up and cruising out of the area.

Being competitive was in Oikawa's nature. He wouldn’t have made it as far as he had before he even reached eighteen if he hadn’t been drilled to win from the very start. So when Iwaizumi suggested that Oikawa didn’t know how to do something and it was very obviously a jab at his inability to not be the leader in general, there was no way Oikawa wasn’t going to do everything in his power to show Iwaizumi up.

He pulled open the door to Iwaizumi's Mustang, shifting gears quickly. Iwaizumi may have had a few seconds head start but that didn’t mean Oikawa was incapable of catching up.

He didn’t know what they were doing – hell, he didn’t even know where they were heading – but the thrill of speeding through streets that were both familiar to him and obscure with the way they flashed by as blurs of lights and shades of black in the inky sky was one that Oikawa could never forget.

It was easy to get lost in the feeling of inertia that hit him with the soft pads of the gas pedal beneath his right foot and the feel of the headrest against his neck. Driving had started off as an occupation but had become a hobby over time. Now, it was more of a habit than anything else but the ease with which Oikawa turned into streets, neck in neck with Iwaizumi at every corner made him grateful for how familiar he felt sitting inside a car.

Late at night, there weren’t many people on the streets, even though they were still in the heart of Tokyo. As they moved closer to the outskirts, Oikawa wasn’t sure who was leading anymore. It was like they were both driving for the sake of it, which was fine by him. The only time Oikawa had ever truly felt  _free_  was when he was sitting behind the wheel. It was strange to think that a boxed in environment could give him the sense of freedom he craved, but when it was just him and the car, it was Oikawa who made all the decisions.

It was his own hands, his feet,  _his mind_  that directed the outcome. He had learned to live life making split-second decisions, which was why he had never had the chance to regret anything until it was taken away from him. Now though, the familiarity and the  _importance_  of having a say, being the one to decide a result gave him that sense of position that he had been lacking as of late.

Wherever they were heading, Oikawa decided that it must have been his subconscious that led him. When he and Iwaizumi slowed down to a stop as the terrain became rougher and the roads started curving off until they hit a dead end, right at the start of a trail to hike up Mount Ogusu, Oikawa felt a wave of nostalgia hit him stronger than the toughest typhoon.

He wanted to turn around, to go back, but a part of him was also rooted to the spot. He must have stalled for too long, gotten lost in his own thoughts because before he knew it, he was being shaken out of his thoughts by a tapping sound at the window.

He rolled it down only to come face to face with Iwaizumi's concerned frown. “You okay?” he asked, not deterred by Oikawa's weird mood at all.

Oikawa contemplated brushing him off, but if Iwaizumi had realized something was wrong, then he was smart enough to also know that Oikawa was hiding something from him. He knew that Iwaizumi would never push for personal details, but Oikawa had somehow led them all the way out here and well, he really wanted to stay – even just for a little bit to maybe bring back memories of happier times that were long gone.

It was fruitless to grasp onto something that wasn’t going to come back, but love was a strange thing – familial love even stranger.

“Let’s go up,” he jerked his head behind Iwaizumi where the trail was blocked off for the night. There were no security guards, no cameras either from what Oikawa could tell; although the hiking trail was lit by guiding lights on the ground from when the mountain held their charity midnight runs up here.

“You want to go hiking in the middle of the night?” Iwaizumi asked skeptically. “It’s dangerous, you could get lost or slip and fall,” he frowned.

Oikawa shot him an unamused look. “Who would have thought that Iwaizumi Hajime would be afraid of hiking in the dark of all things,” he said thinly.

Iwaizumi looked affronted. “I’m not  _afraid_ ,” he said, disgruntled by the accusation.

“It’s a pretty easy climb. The trail’s well-managed and I know the route,” he changed tactics, knowing that bullying Iwaizumi into doing what Oikawa wanted wasn’t going to work. He was stubborn and too intelligent to fall for that kind of trick.

He expected Iwaizumi to challenge him further, maybe push for more information about  _how_  Oikawa knew all of this. Instead, he moved away from the car door, straightening up and nodded. He gave Oikawa room to turn off the engine, pocket the car keys and get out, standing still until Oikawa headed for the trail.

The climb over the poor excuse of a gate to keep trespassers out was easy. The holes between the wooden panels that made up the gate acted as makeshift steps to make the climb simpler.

It was weird how silent Iwaizumi was for the first ten minutes. Oikawa was sure that if he didn’t say anything himself, Iwaizumi would have remained that way for the rest of the climb. But the nagging silence was eating away at him. The only sounds that filled his ears were those of leaves crunching beneath their feet and trees rustling as their clothes brushed against the branches. The hum of cicadas had become such a constant that Oikawa barely acknowledged it as noise.

“Are you going to just stay quiet the whole time?” Oikawa finally asked, annoyed for reasons he couldn’t explain.

Iwaizumi shrugged; it was a dismissive answer, which only served to sour Oikawa's mood further. “Are you going to tell me what this place is?” he asked before Oikawa could continue snapping.

“Mount Ogusu,” Oikawa answered dully.

“I know  _that_ , smartass,” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “I mean, what’s this place to you?” he elaborated.

Oikawa shot him a deadpan look. “I thought we weren’t going to get personal,” he replied flippantly.

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to retort before deciding that it wasn’t worth it. He held back whatever it was that he was going to say, instead, adopting the silence that had pissed Oikawa off so much in the first place. If he didn’t want to tell Iwaizumi why he had a love-hate relationship with the hiking trail, he knew he was going to have to accept the silence.

It wasn’t Iwaizumi's fault, and to be fair, Oikawa had to hand it to him for being so understanding even while Oikawa kept him in the dark. He used to associate Mount Ogusu with happy memories – after all, this is where he had spent most of his vacation time growing up – but when he left his old life behind, he had also actively chosen to leave behind all the good memories that came with it.

Oikawa wasn’t given much of a chance to miss the small things, what with having to suddenly rely on himself to make up money where he wasn’t sure he could. It had been a long time since he had even thought about Mount Ogusu and he was sure he had all but forgotten about it.

But tonight had suddenly stressed him out and the familiar calmness of Yokohama had always been his go to when he was younger. He associated the cool breeze that came with the beach town and the saltiness from the sea mixed with the freshwater of the bay as comforting.

Even when he was a kid and his parents brought him out to Yokohama during the summers, Oikawa would find himself right by the water. He could sit for hours on end, staring at the expanse of blue and the bright red Torii gate that sat tall and proud amidst the vastness. The beach was never empty, what with all the tourists and the locals alike crowding the popular vacation destination, but Oikawa found it easy to get lost in the smell and sound of the water and the waves crashing against the shore.

Sagami Bay was beautiful, but Mount Ogusu standing right next to it made the place all the more majestic. Between the mornings spent hiking the trail and the evenings spent running across the shoreline, Oikawa had found solace in Yokohama. He looked forward to the vacations he got to spend with his family there. But that had been a long time ago and he hadn’t thought about those memories in a long time.

It got colder the higher up the mountain they got, but it wasn’t too steep and the jacket Oikawa had on was enough to shield him from the wind. Still, the nipping brought a shiver through him – one that didn’t go unnoticed by Iwaizumi. Oikawa bit back the need to retort, because all Iwaizumi had done that night was be understanding even through Oikawa's rollercoaster of moods. It did irk him a little that the other man wasn’t showing any signs of confusion or fear.

For all he knew, Oikawa could have brought him out here to kill him. To be fair, he wasn’t going to do that but Iwaizumi didn’t  _know_  that. Oikawa wasn’t sure what was more ridiculous: the fact that he was getting worked up over Iwaizumi  _hypothetically_  underestimating him, or the fact that he was even thinking about the situation in the first place.

“I used to come here a lot as a kid,” Oikawa said quietly, shoving his fists into the pockets of his jacket – Iwaizumi's jacket – more securely. There was nowhere else for his hands to go, but he suddenly felt vulnerable having shared that kind of information.

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi asked without missing a beat. His earnestness and his lack of judgement and surprise was the only thing that pushed Oikawa forward.

“Yeah,” Oikawa agreed, the words coming out hoarse against his throat.

He cleared it, pausing briefly. He kept his eyes forward, looking up as the trail was starting to come to an end. He could see the tower at the top get bigger with every step they took. Instead of heading closer to the top, Oikawa diverted their path to the side, past a step of stairs, next to a small waterfall.

“My parents had – probably still have,” he corrected, “a beach house facing the Sagami Bay. We used to come here on vacation. Every summer they’d bring my sister and I out here for the length of the break. It was the only time I didn’t have someone constantly looking over my shoulder to see what I was doing,” he admitted.

Iwaizumi hummed. “Protective parents?” he asked knowingly.

“You could say that,” Oikawa chuckled mirthlessly. “As long as I didn’t get in trouble or ruin my father’s reputation, he didn’t really care what I did. My mother on the hand liked to dictate everything I did because I was the  _baby_ ,” he rolled his eyes.

Iwaizumi chuckled, and Oikawa couldn’t help but flush at the sound. It was embarrassing and he hadn’t talked about his parents in a long time. The memories made his stomach churn uncomfortably.  

“The last thing that comes to mind when I look at you is a baby who needs protection,” Iwaizumi placated, easing some of Oikawa's tension.

“Thanks,” Oikawa smiled slightly. “Although I’ve got to say: I was kind of a pushover back then so maybe I  _did_  need some protecting,” he admitted.

“That’s your parents’ doing, not yours,” Iwaizumi said plainly. “Sorry,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Shitting on people’s parents, no matter how terrible they were was always a touchy subject. But Oikawa hadn’t spoken to his parents in a long time, and he didn’t think he ever planned on it ever again. They had made their decision clear a long time ago: they liked Oikawa only as long as he followed their ideals but wanted nothing to do with him otherwise; as if it was a fucking  _choice_.

“Don’t be. They’re not my parents and haven’t been for seven years now,” he bristled.

“Still –”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Oikawa said a little more harshly.

He leapt over the stream separating the current bank from the one across. It wasn’t a long jump, but there was no alternate route to the other side. He had discovered this little gem during one of his ‘adventures’ as his dad liked to call them, if only to make his sneaking out at night more important than it was.

But that was the way his father always had been; he looked for any way to twist the truth into something he liked, even if it wasn’t. Feigning ignorance was his specialty and remaining stubborn was his religion.

Iwaizumi followed behind him; his footing slipped slightly underneath the wet patch of grass and dirt that edged up over the water bank. Oikawa turned around and reached for his hand, pulling him forward to steady him. The first time he brought his sister down this path she had almost slipped back into the water too; reaching for Iwaizumi's hand had been almost instinctual but Oikawa dropped it as fast as he had grasped it.

His sister had gotten mad at him despite the fact that he hadn’t let her fall in. He knew that she had just been scared so he brushed off the angry yelling. After all, she had forgiven him once he led her to the cave over which the waterfall tumbled.

She had been mesmerized by the sight the same way Oikawa had been the first time he had seen it. He hadn’t been particularly close to his sister because of their eight-year age gap, but he had always thought their relationship was at least  _friendly_ , if not loyal. That hadn’t panned out the way he had hoped it would but reminiscing over bitter, old memories wasn’t going to do anyone any good, least of all him. He hadn’t spoken to his sister for about as long as he hadn’t spoken to his parents.

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi acknowledged, words muffled by the sound of the waterfall getting louder. It was difficult to see it in the dark but it was easy to feel the mist splashing off the rocks and onto them. “Shit,” Iwaizumi breathed when Oikawa slipped into the small opening between the falling water and the cave that hid it. 

“Pretty neat, right?” Oikawa smiled.

“Definitely,” Iwaizumi agreed easily. The genuine surprise in his eyes brought a surge of warmth coursing through Oikawa's veins.

“My sister thought so too,” he said casually.

The way Iwaizumi snapped his eyes away from the steady stream of water back to Oikawa was the exact reaction he had been expecting.

“Older sister?” Oikawa nodded. “You don’t have to – Oikawa, don’t feel like you have to tell me anything. Like you said, we never promised to get personal. This is your life and your story,” he said awkwardly.

“I  _want_  to.” Oikawa was surprised by the honesty in his own voice. “It’s been a long time since I talked about them. Besides,” he smirked, “you’re gonna feel real bad for making all those assumptions about me after this,” he laughed lightly.

“I apologized for that,” Iwaizumi's voice strained.

“I know,” Oikawa eased. “I was just teasing,” he assured.

He stuck his hand out to make a small intrusion in the flow of water, cupping what he could into his hand before bringing his hand back in towards himself, the few droplets that clung to his hand dripping down onto the rocky floor beneath him.

“My sister, Miyo, is eight years older than me. She’s married to this guy who owns one of those cell tower companies. I guess being a rich, homophobic jackass is a requirement to be a part of the family, which obviously doesn’t fit so here I am, not part of the family anymore,” he chuckled sadly. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said slowly. “I’m not telling you because I want your pity. I just figured I owe it to you since I dragged you all the way out here,” he said curtly, before Iwaizumi could say something.

“Oikawa, you don’t owe me anything,” Iwaizumi said seriously.

Why couldn’t he just  _not_  be this calm, understanding guy for even five minutes? Oikawa  _knew_  that he didn’t owe Iwaizumi anything. It was embarrassing to admit that yeah, being back in Yokohama brought back memories and a need to be with the people who had thrown him away like he hadn’t spent eighteen years with them. So what, he just wanted to talk about them and dammit, he just wanted Iwaizumi to  _listen_.

“Sorry, keep going,” Iwaizumi amended, just as Oikawa was about to tell him to forget it. He knew his anger was irrational, especially because Iwaizumi hadn’t done anything to receive it but the bitter wave of nostalgia was fucking with his brain in ways he didn’t think it could.

He had vowed to not let those people affect him and yet, he couldn’t help that his heart was always going to be tied to them in some way, whether he wanted it to be or not.

“She was pregnant the last time I saw her. I know she’s got a son – Takeru – but I’ve never seen him,” Oikawa admitted. “She was always nice to me even if we weren’t close. She even saw me after my parents disowned me for about two months. I don’t know what happened after that but I’m guessing it was her husband who found out that she was keeping in contact with me because one day she just stopped replying to my messages, then she changed her number and I didn’t bother trying to get in contact after that,” he spat angrily.

“You said your parents were homophobic,” Iwaizumi said slowly, looking to Oikawa for a confirmation. Oikawa nodded his head and Iwaizumi continued. “Did they find out that you…?” he trailed off.

“That I was gay?” Oikawa laughed. “Nah,” he shook his head. “They found out  _Tetsu_ was gay and then they told me to stop seeing him because he was a bad influence,” he rolled his eyes at the ridiculous accusation.

“You refused?” Iwaizumi picked up.

“Obviously,” Oikawa said, face hard. “I told you we’ve been friends since we were fifteen. I wasn’t going to throw him away because my parents told me to. Besides,  _he_  wasn’t the reason I was gay. I knew I was before he even admitted it to me. I just… never had the courage to tell my parents. My entire life I had been raised on a pedestal: told how important I was, how famous I was going to be, how I had the makings of another  _Oikawa_ ,” he cursed.

He had never hated his surname – not even when his father started to imply the kinds of things he had to do, the kind of person he had to be to keep it. Because no matter what, he wasn’t going to let a name define his fate.

“My parents loved me, but only as long as I made them proud. I knew they were homophobic – they didn’t exactly try to hide it – but I figured that as long as I kept making them proud, they’d accept me no matter what. I guess a part of me knew that wasn’t actually true, which was why I kept it a secret from them,” he smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi said quietly. “This isn’t pity; it’s a fact. It’s shitty for any parent to abandon their kid,” he said firmly. Something told Oikawa there was more to that comment than Iwaizumi was letting on but he didn’t push it.

He nodded his head, accepting the apology. “Being raised in a household that didn’t accept being gay, I guess they had never questioned whether their own son was. So when I told them, they flipped out. Basically, they gave me a choice: drop Kuroo or leave the family. I had just turned eighteen so I was legally an adult, but I don’t think they realized how important my friends were to me. And I guess  _I_  didn’t realize how serious they had been.”

What kid really thinks their parents wouldn’t love them unconditionally? It was part of the  _job_ , right?

“I don’t regret it,” he said firmly. “If that’s what you’re wondering.”

“I wasn’t,” Iwaizumi spread his hands out in surrender.

“Tetsu blamed himself so he convinced his parents to let me in. Idiot thought I was just protecting him. It took a whole year until he finally believed I wasn’t holding up a pretence just to be stubborn,” Oikawa smiled slightly at the memory.

Kuroo had been absolutely  _convinced_  that Oikawa was being a stubborn prick and that he was just  _pretending_  to be gay to maintain a claim. Oikawa loved Kuroo, but he had always been ridiculous. He knew deep down that it was Kuroo's own guilt that was blinding him; but his friend had nothing to worry about. The choice would have been easy even  _if_  he had been straight.

“No wonder you’re close,” Iwaizumi whistled.

“I’d die for him,” Oikawa confirmed without any trace of humour.

“I’m pretty sure he’d do the same for you. You can tell he’s loyal,” Iwaizumi nodded.

He looked impressed. Despite the struggle it was for Oikawa to relive those memories, even just in passing, he felt a bit of relief wash over him to know that Iwaizumi wasn’t judging him.

Conversation after that was easy. Oikawa talked a bit more about staying with Kuroo's parents for the last few months of high school. No matter how much they loved Oikawa, Kuroo's parents weren’t as wealthy as Oikawa's had been – not even close – and Oikawa always felt guilty about freeloading off of them. The only reason Kuroo had even gone to the same private high school that Oikawa had was through entrance scholarships. So when it came time for university, Oikawa knew he was going to have to take a year off and work because even with loans, he wasn’t going to make the cut.

His parents may have disowned him verbally, but on paper they were still kin, if only because with a name like Oikawa, any scandal was bound to be blown up into something far bigger. Even when his parents didn’t want to have anything to do with him they still had a hold around his neck. As much as it pissed him off, they were still his parents and no matter how badly he wanted to throw their decision in their faces and make them regret it, he still loved them dutifully.

Kuroo didn’t have to take a year off – his parents had made sure to save money for him for university but the loyal friend that he was, he refused to let Oikawa suffer by himself. They both got jobs working around the city doing things like mopping floors, waiting tables, and this one time modelling for a group of art students. That had been far too uncomfortable for Oikawa's liking and he shuddered at the memory of having people ogle him naked for  _art_.

Iwaizumi had found that particular story very funny. Oikawa wasn’t even sure why he told him that one but seeing the large smile on his face was worth it. It was almost 5 am by the time a wave of tiredness hit him. As if on cue, Iwaizumi yawned too.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you feel for judging me now?” Oikawa grinned, the feeling of triumph growing with Iwaizumi's flush.

“Shut up,” he mumbled embarrassedly, shoving at Oikawa's shoulder lightly. He pretended to stumble, and was satisfied when Iwaizumi's eyes widened in fear until he adopted his signature scowl, all traces of concern wiped from his face.

“ _Entitled rich kid_ ,” Oikawa quoted, making Iwaizumi groan again, louder this time.

“To be fair, that was what  _you_  called yourself,” he reminded.

“And you didn’t deny the accusation,” Oikawa retorted easily.

The sun was going to come up soon; the sky was already a few shades lighter than it had been when they first arrived but the firm darkness kept the fluorescent lights on. It was easier to make it down the hiking trail than it was to climb up – although the hike up hadn’t been all that difficult in the first place.

Mount Ogusu brought back too many memories of his childhood that Oikawa wasn’t allowed to enjoy anymore so he wasn’t really sure why his subconscious had led him here in the first place. But now, after having spent a few hours re-writing those memories with Iwaizumi, Oikawa was grateful that it had.

As if reading his mind, Iwaizumi suddenly said, “We should come here again.”

“ _We_?” Oikawa raised an eyebrow.

Iwaizumi didn’t back down from the suggestion, even with Oikawa's more than just a little skeptical tone of voice. “Yeah,  _we_ ,” he confirmed. “You obviously like this place. Fuck what happened in the past. We’re going to make it something you associate with being happy again,” he said firmly.

Oikawa sized Iwaizumi up, looking for a sign of a lie. But all he found was a firm face and unyielding green eyes that were even brighter against the glint of the full moon above them. It was easy to forget what a strong force Iwaizumi was when he was joking and had his guard down. But when he was serious and protective it was also easy to feel safe in his presence.

Oikawa smiled, sincere and genuine; the sight melted the steadfastness right off of Iwaizumi's own face until his lips pulled up into an honest smile too.

“Thank you,” Oikawa told him earnestly. For what, he wasn’t sure. For not asking him any questions beyond what Oikawa was willing to share? For listening to him? For following him and keeping him company?

For the whole night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh this chapter was really hard for me to write, and I think it's in part to the content, specifically Oikawa's backstory. but, I hope that the wait was worth it. now we know a little more about Oikawa's life and we're getting closer to Iwaizumi knowing the truth about everything lol 
> 
> next time:  
> \- Kuroo and Semi: the Oikawa ~~protection~~ mocking squad  
>  \- Bokuto's birthday party 
> 
> thank you for reading! please leave me a comment or kudos if you enjoyed? ♡


	12. automatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _no need to imagine, cause I know it's true_  
>  _they say "all good boys go to heaven"_  
>  _but bad boys bring heaven to you_  
>  _it's automatic, it's just what they do_  
>  \-- **heaven** \- julia michaels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 months later ... 
> 
> I am so sorry for how late this chapter is going up! I kind of lost my muse for this fic and felt really unmotivated from the lack of feedback ;___; There are almost 200 people subscribed to this fic and yet, the same few people comment every time. I've learned to ignore that feeling of disappointment where I see people consume content but don't give anything back but eventually, it _does_ get to me and after the last chapter, it definitely did. 
> 
> This fic has been my pride and joy; I've put so much thought, time and energy into it that it's disheartening when the comments don't match the # of people who are actually reading the fic :/ I absolutely hate complaining about this kind of stuff because there _are_ people who take the time to comment and it's unfair to them that I'm feeling unmotivated, so to those people: I sincerely apologize and want to thank you for your continuous support. 
> 
> But there are times when the lack of feedback does get to me and what can I say: I'm only human and we all are encouraged by validation. So I just want to remind you that if you're shy, I've enabled anonymous comments for that. I don't think I'm a particularly "intimidating" person and I have no desire to be elevated to such a status just because I write and make content that people enjoy. I'm doing this so we can _share_ in our love for a fandom and a pairing together, not to be isolated as someone who is unapproachable. 
> 
> Support is important! It's what motivates writers! 
> 
> If you still don't want to comment after this, then ok, I've said my piece. I am still working on finishing this fic, although slowly since I've got a job >.< Anyway! This chapter is like 7.5k words so please enjoy the length after the unexpected hiatus!

Having worked odd jobs at all hours of the day and night since he was eighteen had conditioned Oikawa to be able to fall asleep at any time of the day. It had been difficult at first because of the set schedule that school had gotten him accustomed to. Plus with training after school, he was dead tired by the time 10 pm rolled around most days and couldn’t stay up much longer than that.

Within a year however, he was an expert at falling asleep and waking up in an instant. The times that he  _couldn’t_  sleep weren’t caused by his inability to but rather his desire to not waste time. When he started working multiple jobs just to pay off his student loans, it had been a necessary change but now, Oikawa considered his wayward sleep schedule an asset rather than a hindrance.

After years of waking up for work, Oikawa had gotten used to it; that didn’t mean that he  _liked_  it, however. This morning in particular was a particularly difficult one.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi had left Mount Ogusu a little after 5 am. The realization of how late it was already had Oikawa dreading the next morning even though he had no one to blame but himself.

But right before they got into their cars to head back home, Iwaizumi had stopped Oikawa and sheepishly told him that he wasn’t feeling very awake and wanted to know whether it would be okay for them to spend the night in Kanagawa and drive back to Tokyo after a few hours of sleep.

The logical part of Oikawa's brain had wanted to say ‘no.’ They had spent enough time alone as was. Iwaizumi knew things about Oikawa that no one other than Kuroo and Tsukishima did. Being around him made Oikawa want to do more than just spill his deepest secrets and indulge Iwaizumi in his life. The implication that Iwaizumi had made about getting attached rang loudly against his skull and that should have been a good enough reason to deny him any more time together.

Yet, Oikawa couldn’t refute that he  _was_  tired, if only because Iwaizumi stating his own fatigue had triggered a reaction of his own. With all the warning bells in his mind telling him that he was doing the wrong thing, he agreed.

Which was how the next morning Oikawa found himself stirring awake with Iwaizumi in close proximity for the second time in the span of a week. This time, they weren’t on opposite ends of the couch but rather in the same bed. Oikawa's only saving grace was that he hadn’t ended up reaching over in the middle of the night; instead, he kept firmly to his side of the bed, somehow lying flat on his back.

Iwaizumi had more or less done the same thing; his head, chest and arms were firmly on his end of the bed but his legs were a different story.

Oikawa shifted his torso up a bit to check what the pressure against his legs was and was both annoyed and unsurprised to find his them tangled between Iwaizumi's own. The night had started off cold but with the early morning sun making its way through the curtains, the inn room had warmed up; the blankets they were provided were thrown haphazardly on the ground while Iwaizumi chose to use Oikawa as a source of body heat instead.

A flush spread through Oikawa at the thought.  _This_  was why he wanted to insist on heading back home last night. But he hadn’t been able to and his heart was already starting to bear the consequences. He suppressed a groan because Iwaizumi was still asleep and the last thing he wanted was to wake the other man up in their semi-compromising position.

Trying to find an empty inn room in Kanagawa wasn’t very difficult, but finding one that had more than one bed had been a bit of a struggle. They got through two inns before Oikawa had insisted that he’d just sleep on the floor. If anything, sleeping on the floor would have given him a good reason to keep his  _distance_.

But then Iwaizumi had insisted that since he was the one to suggest they stay the night that  _he_  should be the one to sleep on the floor and that Oikawa should have the bed, which turned into the most cliché argument Oikawa had ever been a part of. In the end, what was supposed to be a decision to put his conflicting heart and mind at ease had ended up in something that was entirely the opposite.

He blinked his eyes shut, huffing out an irritated breath. Oikawa slowly pulled his legs free from Iwaizumi's hold, shifting onto his left arm so his back was facing Iwaizumi. He reached out for the nightstand where he had dropped his phone the night before with an alarm for the next morning at 9 am.

Except, in all his frenzy he had put an alarm for 9  _pm_.

Goddammit.

Oikawa unlocked his phone, sliding through his list of notifications for anything important. He had a few missed calls from Kuroo and a text message asking him where he was. Oikawa felt slightly guilty for not having told his friend where he was; both because he knew Kuroo would worry and because if he found out  _who_  Oikawa had spent the night with he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him.

_[Subject: where r u???]_  
To: Tetsu  
>> I’m fine

He didn’t hide things from Kuroo. Ever since they had become friends it was like there were never any secrets between them. Kuroo made it easy for Oikawa to confide in him. Despite the fact that he liked to hold things over Oikawa's head, it was all in good fun and never serious. With Iwaizumi around in his life, Oikawa felt like he was hiding far too many things from his best friend.

It wasn’t a good feeling. Kuroo liked Iwaizumi, even after Oikawa had told him that he slept with him. So  _why_  he felt the need to hide trivial information from Kuroo at this point was beyond him.

A small part of him knew that the more he denied spending unnecessary time around Iwaizumi, the better he could convince himself that there was nothing between them. Every day that Oikawa saw Iwaizumi, he felt like he was lying to him. He had come to accept that yes, their one-night stand had been forgotten by the other man but that didn’t stop Oikawa from feeling like he owed Iwaizumi the truth, anyway.

But what good would that do? He  _liked_  Iwaizumi, and that was dangerous enough. If Iwaizumi knew they had previous history, he might see it as a good enough reason to do it again and as much as Oikawa  _wanted_  to, he knew he shouldn’t–  _couldn’t_.

They had too much in common but their worlds were completely conflicting. Iwaizumi was trouble and not because of the kind of person he was, but because of the kinds of people he attracted. Oikawa had willingly joined forces with him, but it was supposed to be temporary. When this was done, he knew he couldn’t keep seeing Iwaizumi as often as he was now if he wanted any chance of redeeming the name of his business.

It wasn’t fair though that he was playing both himself and Iwaizumi when he couldn’t even figure out what his heart wanted.

_[Subject: where r u???]_  
From: Tetsu  
>> what the fuck?  
>> u know what nvm

Before Oikawa could put his phone down, he felt it vibrate in his hands. Now that he was awake he knew Kuroo wasn’t going to stop unless he picked up. Begrudgingly, he rolled off the bed, walking to the far side of the room where he answered the phone, hoping that his conversation didn’t wake Iwaizumi up.

“ _What_?” he whispered loudly the moment he picked up the call.

The room wasn’t very large; there was only one bed in the middle, a nightstand on either side of the bed. There was a window to their right and a bathroom to their left and that was it. From his previous experience though, Oikawa knew Iwaizumi was a bit of a heavy sleeper so he prayed that this time would be no different.

 _“What do you mean_  ‘what’  _you asshole? Where have you been?”_  Kuroo snapped on the other side of the line.

“I’m fine, I’ll be home in about two hours. Are you at the garage?” he asked, trying to sway the conversation in a different direction.

But Kuroo was far smarter than that. They had been friends since they were fifteen and partners on the track for longer than that. Kuroo was his strategist because he paid attention to the smallest of details and picked up on things most people wouldn’t even see. Oikawa was a fool to think Kuroo would let him change the conversation that easily.

 _“Why are you whispering?”_  he asked.

“I’m not,” Oikawa insisted, voice rising with the denial.

 _“Sure.”_  Oikawa could practically see Kuroo rolling his eyes.  _“Are you with Iwaizumi?”_

“ _No_!” he denied, far too quick to be considered believable.

In his haste to put an end to Kuroo's interrogation he hadn’t realized that Iwaizumi had woken up. Part of that was also due to the fact that his back was turned to the other man and that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he slept shirtless. Nope; it  _definitely_  was not because his muscles were a distraction.

“Oikawa, who are you yelling at?” Iwaizumi called out, voice still heavy with sleep.

Oikawa closed his eyes, pressing his lips shut firmly against the loud laughing on the other side of the line. He  _hated_  being wrong but he hated losing to his friends more and Kuroo was up there at the number one spot for the person Oikawa didn’t like losing to.

 _“Right, so who was that?”_  he asked, despite knowing the answer.

“Did you actually need something or are you just calling to be a dick?” Oikawa asked, ignoring Iwaizumi behind him.

He refused to turn around, but he could hear Iwaizumi shuffling around on the bed all the same. A slight creak of the mattress indicated that Iwaizumi had gotten off and within moments, he felt Iwaizumi's presence behind him.

 _“Well, I was calling to see if you were fine, but now I feel bad that I just interrupted so I’ll see you when you’re home.”_  Oikawa wrinkled his nose in distaste at Kuroo's comment; whether it was because of the insinuation or regret at the lack of truth behind Kuroo's words was a mystery.

“ _What_?” Oikawa asked tetchily, turning to face Iwaizumi the moment he heard the familiar beep as Kuroo hung up.

Iwaizumi raised his hands above his chest, which was thankfully now covered with the black t-shirt he had been wearing under his sweatshirt from the night before. His eyebrows were also raised in a similar fashion, a look somewhere between a smirk and concern etched onto his face.

“Sorry,” Oikawa mumbled in apology. “That was Tetsu,” he elaborated, pocketing his phone. Somehow, his phone battery had lasted through the night but the percentage bar on the top right of the screen was slowly decreasing as the minutes ticked by.

“Did something happen?” Iwaizumi frowned. Oikawa shook his head in denial. “Good,” he confirmed. “I’m going to shower, unless you want to go in first?” he jerked his head behind Oikawa to the bathroom door.

Again, Oikawa shook his head, moving aside to let Iwaizumi walk past him. He grabbed a towel off the bathroom door, closing it shut behind him.

Oikawa turned away, face flushed at the thoughts that had started to pop up at the sight of Iwaizumi heading into the bathroom. He had donned his t-shirt so that his upper body wasn’t bare anymore, but that didn’t stop Oikawa's eyes from zeroing in on the way the material of his shirt clung to his back and shoulders, following the trail all the way down to his ass.

 _Fuck_. He was so screwed.

There was an undeniable attraction between them; after last night, Oikawa felt closer to Iwaizumi, which was the complete opposite of how he wanted to feel. For the sake of their job, it was a good thing, but for the sake of his heart, it was the worst possible outcome.

But it had been his decision to tell Iwaizumi everything that he had, and somehow, even though his heart hadn’t stopped beating uncontrollably all morning, he couldn’t really fault himself for having shared his story. Iwaizumi was kind and patient, something he hadn’t expected the man to be at first sight, and the way he was so attentive made Oikawa feel important.

Oikawa rubbed his face with his hands, flopping down against the bed comfortably now that Iwaizumi no longer occupied half of it.

He really needed to stop waking up with Iwaizumi so close by; otherwise, he was going to start to give himself the wrong impression, let alone Iwaizumi.

* * *

The drive back to Tokyo was quiet. At 1 pm in the afternoon, the roads were a lot busier than they had been the night before, but, having two separate cars made the journey somewhat relaxing. Oikawa didn’t have to worry about what Iwaizumi thought of him, didn’t have to worry about giving away his expression or about schooling his features. Driving alone had always felt like solace for Oikawa and this time was no different.

They both knew the roads and eventually, Oikawa lost track of Iwaizumi on the highway until they pulled out over the exit ramp leading them back into the city.

He tossed Iwaizumi the keys to his Mustang, fishing the keys to his Celica out of his own pocket. He had parked it at the warehouse after work yesterday and had left it there overnight. Right now though, Oikawa had no desire to stick around; he wanted to go home where he could be away from Iwaizumi and think without the hazy fog the other man always brought with him.  

“Hey, Oikawa, wait,” Iwaizumi called, jogging up from behind.

Iwaizumi had parked the Eclipse that he had been driving outside. Oikawa had done the same with the Mustang, ready to make his getaway as soon as Iwaizumi had caught the keys Oikawa had thrown at him, but Iwaizumi wasn’t about to let him go that easily.

“Don’t forget, it’s Bokuto’s birthday. We’re throwing him a party here later tonight. You should swing by. Pretty sure Kuroo's already coming but remind him again if he forgot,” he offered Oikawa a small smile.

“Sure,” Oikawa nodded.

His nonchalance had Iwaizumi frowning. “You good?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I just need to get to work. I’ve been away from the garage for too long,” he said. It was a lame excuse but Iwaizumi didn’t question him. Oikawa almost told Iwaizumi the truth when a guilty expression crossed Iwaizumi's face, but Oikawa kept his mouth firmly shut.

The last thing he wanted to say was that he was trying to get away from Iwaizumi as fast as possible because the other man made him question his feelings for him.

“So you’re coming tonight?” Iwaizumi asked, almost hopefully.

“Yeah,” Oikawa agreed, returning a smile of his own. The action released some tension from Iwaizumi's shoulders and he held his fist out in a bump, which Oikawa met quickly before he departed.

If it wasn’t for the fact that it was Bokuto’s birthday and Kuroo would absolutely kill him for being a downer when they were just starting to get their old life back – somewhat questionably – Oikawa would have stayed home.

“I’m fucked!” Oikawa cried, throwing open the door to the garage. Kuroo barely looked up from the minivan he was servicing; Semi remained neutral, legs propped up against the rim of the only other car in the room, rocking back and forth idly on the back two legs of a wooden chair.

“Aren’t you going to ask why?” he frowned, throwing off the jacket and hoodie he was wearing, reaching for a spare set of black coveralls. He needed to return the clothes to Iwaizumi but he had to wash them first and he didn’t have the chance to go home yet.

“Nope,” Kuroo and Semi replied in unison.

“Why are you even here? Don’t you have work?” Oikawa turned to glare at Semi.

“Day off,” he shrugged, dropping his feet to the tiled floor with a loud thud. “Thought I’d help out around here, like old times,” he smirked.

Oikawa ignored him, coming up to the minivan that Kuroo was working on. It was just a basic tune-up job, nothing specific or particular but considering there wasn’t much work to do around the garage lately, they took extra care with what they could get.

“Tetsu,” Oikawa whined, leaning his head against Kuroo's hunched over shoulder. His friend sighed, pushing off from his hunched position.

“What do you want?” he asked, reaching out to ruffle Oikawa's hair. Despite the fact that his hand was certainly dirty, Oikawa didn’t shy away from the affection.

“He wants you to tell him it’s okay that he slept with Iwaizumi,” Semi shouted from his seat. He was looking through what appeared to be the inventory binder, eyes not even meeting Oikawa's as he voiced his opinion.

“Fuck you,” Oikawa yelled back. “I didn’t sleep with him,” he promised, answering Kuroo's silent question. “I promise,” he insisted when Kuroo didn’t budge.

“Alright, just checking,” he shrugged in defense. “Not that I’d have said anything if you did… I mean, you’ve already been down that road,” he remarked, biting his bottom lip to prevent the smile that was threatening to come out from pissing Oikawa off. It didn’t work, because Oikawa's nose immediate wrinkled. “Why are you fucked?” Kuroo continued, placating Oikawa with the conversation he wanted to have.

Kuroo moved back, Oikawa following his retreating footsteps. He lowered the hood prop, dropping the hood of the van down, pushing once with the heel of his hands to ensure that the lid locked before he took a rag to wipe the grease off the hood. His eyes were focused on his work but Oikawa knew his attention was solely on him.

“I think I like him,” he said glumly. Kuroo grunted in acknowledgement. “Did you not hear what I just said? I  _like_  him,” he repeated.

“What do you want me to say?” Kuroo sighed. “That it’s a bad idea? You wouldn’t be here telling me that you’re fucked if you didn’t already know that. You know I love you and I always have your best interests at heart but I’ve also never held you back from what you truly want,” he reminded. “I’ve got your back. You do what you want to do,” he assured.

Oikawa pursed his lips, mind going over Kuroo's approval with mixed with apprehension.

“You should probably tell him you guys fucked before you ask him out,” Semi said, breaking Oikawa out of his musing.

“Oh what the fuck,  _you told him_?” Oikawa accused Kuroo, who moved back instinctively. “You jackass, it was a  _secret_ ,” he screeched, picking up the rag Kuroo had discarded, whipping it across Kuroo's arm.

“Goddammit, look what you did Semi,” Kuroo yelled behind him to Semi who ignored the shouting. “It was a badly kept secret, anyway! Only Iwaizumi doesn’t know.”

Oikawa dropped the rag, stopping his assault. “What are you talking about?” he narrowed his eyes angrily.

“It wasn’t me who told Semi,” Kuroo sighed, taking a few steps forward, deeming Oikawa's mood safe. “Apparently Kyoutani saw you two so all of Iwaizumi's friends know and well…” he rubbed his forehead, shooting Oikawa an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

Oikawa held back the urge to groan. Great, so everyone knew except for Iwaizumi. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. That first night he had  _officially_  met Iwaizumi, Kyoutani had asked him why he hated Iwaizumi so much when they had gone off together. At the time, Oikawa had assumed the question was out of some kind of loyalty; now, he could see it was one of genuine confusion.

He would have felt embarrassed about this if it weren’t for the fact that he had seen not only Kyoutani but everyone else who apparently knew about Iwaizumi and Oikawa sleeping together plenty of times since their first encounter. If they had wanted to say something to him, they could have and yet, they chose to keep it a secret too. Oikawa wasn’t sure if he should have been grateful about this fact or offended.

Part of him was leaning towards offense because what the fuck, did they think  _he_  wasn’t good enough?

He knew that wasn’t the argument he was supposed to be having with himself but Oikawa had never been good at feeling like he wasn’t the best. From a young age his family had prioritized success, whether it was in school, on the racetrack or in life in general. Having Iwaizumi's friends keep their one-night stand a secret from Iwaizumi felt like a punch to the gut.

The loyalty he had seen between them wasn’t one out of fear but rather trust, so the only reason they would have kept Oikawa a secret from Iwaizumi was if they didn’t think it was right, or if they didn’t want it to happen again.

“Don’t,” Kuroo's firm voice broke Oikawa out of his scowl. “Don’t think you’re not good enough. They probably just don’t think it’s their business and it has nothing to do with you as a person,” he explained.

Oikawa scoffed at the attempt to cheer him up. But he had never been one to throw away support when it was offered, unless he felt it was demeaning; coming from Kuroo, that was the last thing on Oikawa's mind.

“Are you done moping?” Semi said, finally getting off his seat and coming to stand next to Oikawa and Kuroo. “Just fuck him for real since you obviously want to,” he bumped Oikawa's shoulder.

That was as close to support as he was going to get from Semi. Even though Oikawa felt like he had stooped to an unimaginable low to have to receive comfort from Semi of all people, he couldn’t deny that the sentiment was appreciated.

“Thanks,” he drawled sarcastically.

So what, the last time  _wasn’t_  real? That was a thought he kept firmly to himself. His life seemed like a joke at this point and it was no one’s fault but his own.

“You going tonight?” Kuroo asked when it was clear that Oikawa had no intention of continuing this conversation further.

Oikawa hummed noncommittally. “I guess I have to. Can’t let Iwa-chan take credit for my gift,” he said.

“Gift?” Kuroo asked, confused.

“Car,” Oikawa elaborated. “I won it for Bokuto last night,” he grinned.

“Oh,” Kuroo tapped his chin pensively. “So that’s where you went. I was wondering why you didn’t invite me, but I guess the only way you know how to flirt is when you’re showing off and racing is the way you do it best,” he laughed, ducking when Oikawa swatted an arm out against his head.

“I’m sure Bokuto will be happy,” Semi said, a hint of indifference in his voice.

Oikawa paused, turning to look at Semi instead. “You know, if you wanted to come tonight, you could have just asked,” he smirked.

It was far too easy to rile up Semi but he didn’t want to  _actually_  upset him. Being left out when all your friends were invited somewhere was never a fun feeling. Despite the fact that Semi had fucked up, he was owning up to it and Oikawa had forgiven him a long time ago. He wouldn’t have allowed the man to stay with him for so long if he hadn’t. The way Kuroo interacted with Semi spoke volumes about his opinion on the matter as well, despite his initial hesitancy.

“I wasn’t— that’s not— shut the fuck up,” Semi growled, face flushed red.

“Don’t be such a baby about it,” Kuroo grinned, jostling Semi in a one-armed hug. “As if we were going to make you stay home alone. You’d probably just watch sappy romcom movies and reminisce about your life before you fucked it up,” he sighed.

Semi glared at him, trying his best to weasel out of Kuroo's hold. But the height advantage wasn’t the only thing Kuroo had on Semi. He was tall, sure, but underneath all that height was muscle. If Kuroo didn’t want to let him go, there was no way he was breaking out.

“Who knows,” Oikawa hummed, “Maybe you’ll get to reminisce at the party too. I heard Tendou was coming,” he quipped.

He didn’t actually know if Tendou was coming but there was a good chance that he would be. He had been spending a lot of time with Daichi lately, and as far as Oikawa could tell, Daichi was an inclusive person.

“See,” Kuroo smiled wickedly, “Now you won’t have to stray from your original plans  _and_  you’ll have the chance to do something about your love life,” he squeezed Semi’s shoulder tightly.

“Fuck you guys. I liked it better when we were making fun of Oikawa,” he glared.

To be honest, all three of their love lives sucked. While Semi could be a dick, he wasn’t enough of one to point that out. Apparently everyone knew about Oikawa's problems but Kuroo's break-up was mostly Oikawa's fault too. It was still a fresh wound and it was easier to ignore it until Kuroo brought it up. After all, it was his heart and his feelings that were at stake here.

Despite the unfortunate circumstances surrounding all of them, it was comforting to be around people who were more like family than friends. The easy smiles, the teasing banter and the unwavering support made any situation worth it.

* * *

To no one’s surprise, Tendou actually  _was_  invited to the party. The more surprising end of that was the fact that he chose to attend. For the most part, he liked to distance himself from everything that happened around him. He was helping Iwaizumi now, but that was because his wellbeing was also at stake. If a turf war broke out, everything he had established would be wiped away; starting from the bottom when you had worked your whole life to build up your reputation was not ideal.

Especially in a place like Tsukiji.

The bigger surprise – to Iwaizumi at least – was that Oikawa had showed up.

Things had been going well between them since Iwaizumi had opened up and then last night, Oikawa had done the same. Albeit, Oikawa's family history made Iwaizumi feel like an absolute jerk for the unwarranted comments he had thrown at the other man the first time they had met.

Maybe Oikawa regretted telling Iwaizumi so much, or maybe it was something else but the moment they got back to Tokyo, he had started acting…  _weird_.

In all honesty, he had been acting weird since the morning when he had been talking to Kuroo on the phone. Iwaizumi liked to believe that if something really bad had happened, Oikawa wouldn’t have hid the truth from him.

But then again, Oikawa wasn’t obligated to tell him anything.

Whatever had happened that morning had completely vanished in the span of about half a day. Oikawa was back to his usual self, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Iwaizumi had been exposed to Oikawa's vulnerability and his sincere smiles just hours before, he would have been fooled by the façade too.

The upside of living in a warehouse meant the open space. It wasn’t exactly hidden, but it was located in a remote enough area that no one came by unless they took an accidental turn and kept driving for a few minutes without turning back.

This year, Bokuto’s birthday was celebrated just as enthusiastically as it was always was, despite the circumstances surrounding them. It was an escape for one night and everyone needed it. Kuroo had built a makeshift stereo that was currently blasting music; the doors to the main building had been propped open, for easy access to and from the two separate but united groups they had somehow split up into.

It was nearing October so the air was chilly but the fires that Kyoutani had started around the perimeter of the building kept it from getting too cold. Iwaizumi could see him fighting about something with Tendou, Yahaba laughing by his side; Kyoutani had a short-temper and Tendou was good at pushing buttons. It didn’t help that despite all of Kyoutani’s protests, he  _was_  trying to impress Yahaba whenever the young mechanic was around.

Bokuto was showing Akaashi around his new car. He had been really excited when Iwaizumi let Oikawa present it to him when he, Kuroo and Semi had arrived. Amidst all of Bokuto’s pestering to just let him see what his new car looked like, Iwaizumi hadn’t budged. It was Oikawa who had won it after all and he felt it was only right that the other man reveal it.

Akaashi didn’t seem like the kind who liked cars too much at first glance, but whether it was a hidden interest or through Bokuto’s tutelage, he  _was_  a good driver. Daichi was whispering something to Suga not too far back and from the look of things, it appeared that Bokuto was going to let Akaashi race Suga in his new Mitsubishi Eclipse.

The area around the two warehouses was large and for the most part open, dirt road. It made for an easy race strip, which had been used often when Bokuto and Daichi had first installed it. Now, it was more for show than anything else and for whenever they had large groups of guests over.

As far as parties went, this was a relatively small one but considering Tendou, Kuroo, Oikawa and Semi’s appearance, it was a good thing to keep it between a few people. Besides, Iwaizumi wasn’t sure who was on his side anymore after having officially cut ties with both the Adachi and the Hirata clans.

Iwaizumi tucked his hands into the pocket of his black jacket, right hand fisting around the pack of cigarettes he usually kept close by. He knew it was a bad habit but it was a better stress reliever than other things that had been available to him. Not seeing Oikawa anywhere in sight made Iwaizumi's stress levels rise. 

It was stupid though. Oikawa was a grown-up, totally capable of handling himself. Before Iwaizumi knew him, he had done just that. So then why was the thought of Oikawa being out of sight for more than a few minutes so riling?

Stupidly, he moved in the direction of the main building. He passed by Kuroo and Semi – Kuroo giving Semi what Iwaizumi could only assume was a pep talk from the series of finger pointing and shoulder shaking. Everyone was enjoying themselves doing what they wanted to, so it was strange then that Oikawa wasn’t around to do the same.

He took the two flights of stairs it took to get to the second level, heading for the door that led to the roof. Iwaizumi hadn’t told Oikawa about it, but he was unsurprised to find him sitting on the grey pebbles lining the surface of the roof, knees tucked into his chest and arms circling them, holding the position in place.

Oikawa turned around when he heard the door open but quickly faced forward when he saw that it was just Iwaizumi.

“What are you doing up here?” Iwaizumi frowned, coming to stand beside Oikawa's sitting figure.

“Sorry, I should have asked first,” he apologized, although he made no move to leave.

“That’s not what I meant,” Iwaizumi explained. “What are you doing here instead of enjoying the party? If you wanted to go outside there’s plenty of fresh air down there where it’s not freezing.”

Oikawa looked up, petulant frown in place. If it wasn’t for the fact that his cheeks and the tip of his nose were tinged pink, the look might have been effective. This way, he only looked cute.

“Don’t be mean, I wanted to be alone,” he whipped his head back, reaching for a can of beer. He ignored Iwaizumi when he sat down next to Oikawa, extending his legs outwards and leaning his arms back, hands flat against the rocky surface. He chanced a glance at the empty cans of beer Oikawa had in his possession and almost snorted at the fact that he was on the last of a six-pack all by himself.

“Why are you sulking?” Iwaizumi asked conversationally, flicking open the packet of cigarettes, fishing out a lighter that was tucked away in one of his pockets as well.

“Didn’t I say that I wanted to be alone?” Oikawa asked, although his tone lacked its usual snippiness.

Iwaizumi felt his heart sink. As long as he had known Oikawa, the man was anything but weak or uncertain but right now, that’s exactly what his tone implied.

“Want me to leave?” he asked, despite the voice that insisted he stay.

Oikawa shifted his position to play with the empty cans to his left. “Do what you want,” he said quietly.

Iwaizumi didn’t know why he cared so much, but he did. Oikawa wasn’t the kind of person to throw his problems onto other people and Iwaizumi had never been the kind to want to listen but Oikawa made him want to.

It was silent between them for what felt like hours but Iwaizumi knew it had only been minutes. He took a drag of his cigarette to keep him busy because god forbid, being alone in Oikawa's presence like this made him anxious. The silence wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but it wasn’t calming either.

“I’ve never liked the smell of tobacco,” Oikawa said, breaking the silence so suddenly that Iwaizumi almost dropped the cigarette from between his fingers. “That’s not a dig at you,” he smiled lopsidedly when Iwaizumi moved to snub it out.

“Sorry?” he offered in apology.

Oikawa shook his head, holding out his left hand. “Trade you,” he shook the can of beer he had been sipping on idly.  

Iwaizumi knit his brows in confusion, shrugged then offered Oikawa a new cigarette because he had put the old one out despite Oikawa's assurance that he didn’t have to. Oikawa put the beer between them, holding the cigarette with his thumb and forefinger against the filter while Iwaizumi held the lighter up to the other end for Oikawa.

If Iwaizumi hadn’t been sure before, seeing Oikawa's eyes illuminated against the fire made his veins run aflame. They were bright and promising, lighting up whatever they landed on and right now, they were focused solely on Iwaizumi.

A deep inhale followed by a spluttering cough snapped Iwaizumi out of the magnetic trance he always found himself in whenever his eyes locked in on Oikawa's own.

“Are you okay?” Iwaizumi asked, concern falling into place in a matter of seconds.

Oikawa took a few deep breaths, free hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Sorry, I breathed in too fast. First time,” he added when Iwaizumi frowned.

“Shit, you should have told me,” he said reaching for the cigarette that Oikawa still had in his right hand.

He gave it up when Iwaizumi tugged on his hand but he didn’t look happy about it. Whether it was because he was embarrassed or angry was beyond Iwaizumi though. It was both unexpected that Oikawa had never smoked before and also completely unsurprising. Based solely on looks, Oikawa didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would ever be involved in anything even remotely illegal or uncouth.

He was polished, both in appearance and speech, but Iwaizumi accredited that to his upbringing now that he knew. Still, looks were misleading and everything Oikawa did managed to pull Iwaizumi further into his charismatic persona. He was simultaneously the most intriguing and the most confusing person Iwaizumi had ever met.

“Do you trust me?” he asked before he could help himself.

Oikawa cocked his head. Iwaizumi half expected him to say no – maybe it would have been better if he  _had_  but Oikawa nodded after a few beats of silence, urging Iwaizumi forward.

“Open your mouth,” Iwaizumi prompted. Oikawa narrowed his eyes but did what he was asked. “Not that much,” Iwaizumi chuckled, nudging Oikawa's jaw until he shut it. He traced over Oikawa’s lips, pressing his thumb between them and pushing up until they were barely parted. Oikawa's eyes widened at the touch but he didn’t move away.

Slowly, Iwaizumi lifted his hand back to his own mouth, taking a deep drag, feeling the burn of tobacco hit the back of his throat. He ignored Oikawa's curious look, holding the hand with the cigarette out to the side while his left reached for Oikawa's face, fingers angling his jaw so Iwaizumi could bring his mouth close.

It was barely a kiss; he wasn’t even sure if their lips had really touched or if it was the effect of the air between them. Oikawa didn’t close his eyes and neither did Iwaizumi as he released the breath he had been holding right into Oikawa's parted lips. He was afraid Oikawa was going to forget to breathe with the way his eyes widened and his shoulders went rigid but then he sucked in and moved back, relaxing.

Iwaizumi stared at the rise and fall of his chest, visible over his white and navy crewneck. He was breathing far too quickly despite his slumped shoulders and Iwaizumi felt guilt rush through him. That had been an impulsive,  _selfish_  action.

He should have apologized; he  _wanted_  to apologize. But he also wanted to bring his lips to Oikawa's again and he wasn’t sure if an apology would allow that to happen a second time.

“Again,” Oikawa said, voice barely above a whisper. “Do it again,” he said a little louder.

Oikawa’s earlier shock was replaced by a fierce determination and it was that look alone that had Iwaizumi bringing the cigarette to his lips again, mind and body working on autopilot.

This time, it was Oikawa who reached out, both hands cupping either side of Iwaizumi's face and jaw as leverage to pull him in.

Iwaizumi wasn’t certain if the last time counted as a kiss, but he had no doubt that this time it was. Oikawa didn’t leave any room for doubt mouth opening up to take in the smoke Iwaizumi passed off to him. He swallowed hard, hands never leaving Iwaizumi's face as his thumb brushed along Iwaizumi's jaw, coaxing a moan out of Iwaizumi that should have been embarrassing but it only turned him on further.

Iwaizumi didn’t know who closed their eyes first, who turned as innocent as shotgunning could be into a full-fledged kiss, but he had no room for complaints. Oikawa's lips were warm, soft and confident: everything Iwaizumi could have wanted.

He pressed the burnt end of the cigarette into the ground, putting it out before he dropped the butt, hand coming up to fist at Oikawa's sweater, pulling him closer.

Their mouths moved together quickly, desperately. There was no foreplay as long as kissing was concerned; Oikawa slid his tongue into Iwaizumi's mouth and Iwaizumi had no desire to do anything else. He swiped his tongue along the roof of Oikawa's mouth, deepening the kiss when Oikawa shivered at the action.

Somewhere along the way Iwaizumi landed on his back with a rough shove – his jacket cushioning his fall – and Oikawa climbed on top of him, legs straddled on either side of his hips. He stared down at Iwaizumi, hair dishevelled, lips red, face flushed from both the exertion and the nipping wind.

“You’re drunk,” Iwaizumi reminded, although the warning was more for himself. His fingers played with the soft skin of Oikawa's hips, hands having found their way under his shirt somewhere along the way.

“You’re hard,” Oikawa scoffed, ignoring him.

Iwaizumi frowned, but his protests were cut short when Oikawa ground down against his hips. If he wasn’t semi-hard before, he certainly was now. All reason and logical thinking vanished as Oikawa continued to grind against him.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi breathed, hands coming around to squeeze Oikawa's ass.

This was a terrible idea but as long as Oikawa had no intentions of stopping, neither did Iwaizumi. He trailed his hands up and over Oikawa's behind slowly, thumbs digging into his hips. He used the position as leverage to turn Oikawa over onto his back instead.

Iwaizumi threw his jacket to the side, settling his leg on either side of Oikawa's hips, so he was hovering over him, positions flipped.

“Can’t handle not being in control?” Oikawa bristled.

“You’re one to talk,” Iwaizumi laughed, pressing his lips against Oikawa's once more before he could protest.

His stubbornness was something to be marvelled at. Oikawa glared up at him as best as he could until Iwaizumi slid his hips against Oikawa's; then he melted, meeting Iwaizumi's clothed thrusts with frantic ones of his own.

Oikawa curled his fingers through the belt loops in Iwaizumi's pants, tugging him closer until he leaned down to kiss him again, all tongue and teeth. He wasn’t gentle and Iwaizumi didn’t want him to be. Oikawa’s fingers weaved their way into Iwaizumi's short hair, tugging almost painfully but he was too engrossed with the feeling of Oikawa under him to really care.

He slid a hand under the hem of Oikawa's shirt again, cold hand meeting warm skin. Oikawa shuddered beneath him and that only spurred him on further. He used his other hand to keep hovering over Oikawa, legs on either side while he flattened his hand across the expanse of Oikawa's slim, muscled torso.

As suddenly as Oikawa had initiated his desire, he pushed Iwaizumi away. Iwaizumi retracted his hands, face pulled into an unsure, thin line.

“I have to tell you something,” Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to meet Iwaizumi's piercing stare.

“What?” he prompted when Oikawa turned silent. Whatever it was, Iwaizumi wasn’t sure he could find it in himself to really care. With Oikawa panting underneath him, lips shiny and red from kissing made Iwaizumi think of all the other ways he could keep the colour on his face from returning to normal.

“Don’t be mad,” Oikawa said quietly.

“I won’t,” Iwaizumi promised, curiosity starting to seep in amidst his lust.

Oikawa opened his eyes. “We slept together,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he whispered, looking past Iwaizumi's head to the night sky above them.

Whatever it was that Iwaizumi thought Oikawa was going to tell him,  _that_  wasn’t it. And not because he didn’t want to, but because he was pretty sure he would have remembered if that had ever happened.

“ _What the fuck_ ,” he bit out, resisting the urge to apologize when Oikawa recoiled at the harsh tone.  

As far as Iwaizumi was concerned, petty pranks didn’t seem like Oikawa's style. This – whatever the fuck this was – wasn’t a joke; that much Iwaizumi was sure of. Everything else was free game though, including acceptance and knowledge.

He promised he wouldn’t get mad and he  _wasn’t_  – not at Oikawa, anyway. But he  _was_  angry with himself for not having seen this coming, for having slept with Oikawa without remembering anything. There were so many things wrong with what Oikawa had just said and all of them were pointing fingers at Iwaizumi.

His stomach sank as he slowly digested the information, mind searching for the appropriate words to say. He never got the chance though, which was both a blessing and a curse. Iwaizumi knew that the longer Oikawa had to stew about this, the worse the conversation they needed to have was going to get.

“Sorry to break up whatever this is, but we’ve got to go,” Bokuto opened the door to the roof loudly.

“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi asked, moving away from Oikawa in an instant. He picked up his jacket, throwing it over his arm.

“You too, Oikawa,” Bokuto jerked his thumb behind him. “Kuroo's about to lose his shit and go after Sakusa himself. Semi said you’re the only one he’ll listen to.”

That had Oikawa jumping to his feet. He ignored the arm Iwaizumi held out for him, choosing to push himself up with his own two hands. He shot Iwaizumi a scathing glare, which was both well deserved and entirely unfair.

“The only people Kuroo would do that for is me and—” he stopped midsentence, “What happened to Tsukki?” he demanded.

Bokuto’s silence spoke volumes. All of a sudden Iwaizumi's fight with his memory and impeding argument with Oikawa felt unimportant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: Tsukki's fine, I promise! 
> 
> I forgot to mention this last time but the wonderful [@vackerpudding](https://twitter.com/vackerpudding/) did this [super cute fanart](https://twitter.com/vackerpudding/status/964585161131216898) of iwaoi in their outfits from the last chapter!! Please go support her and her wonderful art; it's absolutely amazing! Thank you so much Victoria! I'm really honoured and touched! <3 
> 
> Oikawa's [outfit](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/68/71/e5/6871e5c8e7d3876b3df0664715291e99.jpg)  
> Iwaizumi's [outfit](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/af/a8/96/afa896088793e97bac889ae8de5106d2.jpg)
> 
> next time:  
> \- Iwaizumi and Oikawa have a serious talk  
> \- Iwaizumi certainly does not forget round 2 
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated, thank you! ♡


	13. on the low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _see all the crazy, hot girls at the show_  
>  _see all my boys doing dirt on the low_  
>  _losing you was like a low blow_  
>  _I'm an amateur at love but I can't let it go so_  
>  \-- **amateur at love** \- karl wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a while but lately I've been really inspired but all this amazing fanart people have made for this fic and the super kind and encouraging comments I've received even in the 3 months since I last updated. I want to thank every single person for their support bc it means a lot! This fic has been ongoing for over a year and I can't believe I'm still writing it (honestly, I thought I'd be done by now) but I'm motivated to keep going by everyone's wonderful support so thank you! 
> 
> If you could, please check out these amazing fanart pieces and rt/like/share them! These artists are super talented and it means the world to me that my fic inspired them to make something!
> 
> Victoria ([@vackerpudding](https://twitter.com/vackerpudding)): [Oikawa 1](https://twitter.com/vackerpudding/status/1010192118051229696) // [Oikawa 2](https://twitter.com/vackerpudding/status/1010187552756830208) // [Oikawa 3](https://twitter.com/vackerpudding/status/1009924519602122754)
> 
> Angi ([@hoodys_](https://twitter.com/hoodys_)): [Iwaizumi/Oikawa](https://twitter.com/hoodys_/status/1039206733128900608)
> 
> Thank you again so much to both of you!! I cannot tell you how happy seeing my fic come to life means to me! ♡

“Get the fuck off me!” Kuroo yelled just as Iwaizumi threw open the door and stepped outside, Oikawa in tow.

The fires were dimming now with everyone’s attention focused on a pissed off Kuroo and a struggling Semi trying to hold him back. Besides Yahaba and Oikawa, Semi was the only person who really knew Kuroo well enough to put himself in harm’s way in an attempt to keep him from running off. Oikawa looked to Yahaba, whose hand was firmly being held by Kyoutani’s.

Oikawa didn’t even have the heart to tease him about it because his priority was Kuroo and calming him down enough to ask him what had happened with Tsukishima.

“Tetsu,” Oikawa said loudly, nudging Semi aside. “Whatever happened, you need to calm down.”

Kuroo turned his anger on Oikawa for a few seconds until recognition crossed his eyes and his face relaxed, losing some of its earlier ferocity. But he remained silent, jaw set and face hard. His brown eyes may not have been angry towards the people in his vicinity, but Oikawa could tell that they held something closer to frustration.

He looked to Semi for an explanation, who redirected the question to Bokuto with a glance.

“I got a call from Akaashi,” Bokuto said quietly. “He owns a bar in Shinjuku not too far from where Tsukishima works. He said the place had been hit just after closing,” Bokuto explained.

Oikawa could see why Kuroo had been spending so much time with Bokuto lately. Sure, Bokuto was a friendly guy and it was obvious that he and Kuroo vibed well together but knowing that Bokuto’s boyfriend had a geographical connection to Tsukishima made a lot of sense. Kuroo had always been protective and stubborn. He had tried for months to get Tsukishima to go out with him; it wasn’t in his nature to give up so easily  _now_.

“Was he hurt?” Oikawa asked Bokuto.

“No, he’s fine. But the cops are there doing their usual investigation. We told Kuroo he shouldn’t go but he won’t listen,” Bokuto sighed, rubbing his cheek guiltily.

Bokuto was right.  _Everyone_ was right. Voluntarily going to the scene of an investigation was stupid. Kuroo knew how much trouble he would get in for being there, not only because he was disrupting the investigation but because it was suspicious that he  _knew_  where to go. Of course, if Tsukishima had still been his boyfriend, it might have made sense but they hadn’t been together for a few weeks and Oikawa knew that the cops investigating them would have clued in on the distance.

The lack of Kuroo's presence at home and Tsukishima’s at the garage was a pretty good indicator, especially considering that they were both still in the city.

Tsukishima’s job as a bartender in the red light district had never been Kuroo's favourite thing to discuss, although he let Tsukishima do what he wanted because it wasn’t his say. The bars in Shinjuku were heavily influenced by the yakuza. Now, with the inner fighting of the gangs, it was an even more dangerous place to work yet it was a solid paying job and a constant in Tsukishima’s life. That was something Kuroo knew not to even  _ask_  him to give up.

“Tooru, you can’t agree with everyone else,” Kuroo said seriously.

Kuroo may have been the more easy-going one between the two of them but he was just as stubborn and willing to take risks. Back in high school, his risks involved navigating Oikawa through the racetrack.

Now, it was a bit more complicated but Oikawa could see the hidden fire in his eyes and his need to do what he thought was  _right_.

“I don't,” Oikawa said easily, much to Kuroo's relief.

He ignored the looks of apprehension he received from everyone else. He  _especially_  tried to ignore the look Iwaizumi was giving him.

One moment, they were kissing and the next Oikawa had blurted out what had happened between them all those months ago. With Bokuto’s arrival and Kuroo's dilemma, Oikawa's emotions were shot to hell. He didn’t know  _what_  to feel anymore, and the alcohol still buzzing in his system wasn’t doing him any good either.

“No one else has known you or Tsukki as long as I have. You know you don’t need my permission to do what you think is right,” Oikawa reminded.

He could appreciate why Kuroo had asked him though.

If the police started asking questions then it wasn’t just Kuroo who was going to get in trouble. But Oikawa had always let his heart guide him and even though it didn't produce the best outcomes, there was no way he could refuse to let Kuroo do the same. Not only would that be hypocritical but it would go against everything he believed in.

“I know, and I want you to come with me,” Kuroo asked.

“He can’t drive,” Iwaizumi cut in. “And neither can you. You’re drunk and or too emotional,” he said.

The finality in his tone wouldn’t have left much room for argument with most people but Oikawa  _wasn’t_  most people.

“Yahaba can drive then,” he glared, before Iwaizumi could get any ideas.

He knew it was stupid to ask Semi to walk right into the middle of a yakuza hold and he would never ask, even if Semi would feel the need to agree.

“Into known yakuza territory? I don’t think so,” Iwaizumi said curtly. “You’re either taking me or you’re not going at all.” Oikawa flared up at his gall. Who the fuck was he to tell Oikawa what he could and couldn’t do? “We had a deal,” Iwaizumi said, reading into Oikawa's angry expression.

Oikawa grit his teeth, clenching his hands into fists as he breathed in and out a few times to try and calm himself. He knew Iwaizumi was right. Out of all of them, he had the most influence and the most experience working with and for the yakuza. Despite his current disagreement with two of the clans, Iwaizumi knew how they operated.

It made  _sense_  to bring him, but it all boiled down to the fact that Oikawa didn’t want to.

“ _Fine_ ,” he agreed begrudgingly, stalking off towards Kuroo's car before Iwaizumi got the idea to tell him what to do any further.

He got into the backseat and crossed his arms over his chest, visibly annoyed with the situation. Of course Iwaizumi felt the need to butt into his business. Oikawa knew he should have been grateful rather than angry but a lot of the mixed emotions came from what they had been doing just before.

If Bokuto hadn’t interrupted, Oikawa knew he didn’t have had the self-control to not have sex with Iwaizumi. Maybe the other man would have been moral about it—he might have refused but Oikawa didn’t like the idea of being rejected almost as much as he didn’t like the idea of how little restraint he possessed around Iwaizumi.

It pissed him off more than he liked to admit that Iwaizumi was so  _calm_  about all of this too. He wasn’t letting his emotions – whatever they may be – cloud his judgement and Oikawa could admit to himself that he was a little jealous of Iwaizumi's ability to compartmentalize so well.

Kuroo got into the passenger seat, sliding over the keys to Iwaizumi. Oikawa hated how quiet the drive to Shinjuku was. Kuroo was probably blaming himself for leaving Tsukishima alone even though it had been Tsukishima’s decision to break up. Iwaizumi was—well, Oikawa had never been able to get a good read on Iwaizumi despite the copious amounts of time they had been spending together lately. And Oikawa was too busy thinking about all the ways tonight could have gone differently had he just had a better handle on his emotions.

The streets around them were a blur of flashing lights. The abandoned, industrialized area of Tsukiji turned to the crowded, bustling streets of Shinjuku.

It was normal to see the streets busy with the kind of life that couldn’t be found in some of the more traditional areas of Tokyo. Chuo may have been riddled with the customary gangs that were also found in Taito but Shinjuku had always been the most progressive ward in the city, even though Tokyo itself was a pretty progressive city all on its own.

Oikawa barely registered the pedestrians around them, dressed either scantily or in formal attire but nothing in between. That was the kind of place the red light district was at night though.

The bar Tsukishima worked at was right in the centre of all the chaos. With the lack of parking, they had to walk a few minutes. Oikawa had visited Tsukishima at work before – hell, he and Kuroo had had a few stints in this area of the city back when they were broke students trying to pay off their loans – so the hollering and catcalling didn’t bother him.

It was surprising then that it seemed to bother Iwaizumi whose face hardened every time someone approached them with an offer.

Even with part of the street shut down for the investigation, the nightlife continued. The cops around here knew what it meant to work in the red light district,  _especially_  when it was on yakuza turf. They were paid by the police department on paper but their life of luxury came from the payouts the yakuza provided for keeping their mouths shut.

Just thinking about that kind of shady business made Oikawa's insides burn in anger but he kept quiet, knowing his place even if he didn’t like it.

He wasn’t here to tell people how to live their lives; he was here to make sure Tsukishima was fine and to support Kuroo.

Oikawa hated that Iwaizumi had insisted on coming along, but he didn’t miss the way people nodded in his direction in recognition. Iwaizumi may have said that he wasn’t affiliated with the yakuza – and he was right in that he  _technically_  wasn’t – but it was obvious that they knew who he was.

“Sorry, but this establishment is off limits to the public,” one of the police officers standing guard outside the bar put a hand out to stop them.

“My boyfriend’s inside,” Kuroo stated angrily.

“I’m sorry but we can’t allow you in,” the other man stepped forward, noticing Kuroo's agitation.

“You bend rules all the time,” Oikawa snapped. “Do you want a bribe or something?” he asked bluntly.

He knew it was wrong to start a fight with someone – especially law enforcement – when what he wanted was to be angry with  _himself_. But these idiots just happened to be in the way and the longer Oikawa stayed in Shinjuku at this time of the night, the more aware he was of the corruption.

Tsukishima may have been Kuroo's ex, but he was also Oikawa's friend. They had their differences, sure, but Tsukishima had always stood by them before this.

With the way his night had played out so far, Oikawa regretted ever involving himself with Iwaizumi and then convincing Kuroo to do the same. It was something akin to survivor’s guilt – Oikawa  _knew_  he hadn’t done anything to convince Kuroo and that his decision was his own, but Tsukishima being alone and in the line of fire was not something Oikawa could forgive himself for.

“What he means is that this is Kawasaki-san’s area and unless you’re willing to explain to him why you didn’t let us through, you’ll step aside,” Iwaizumi cut in before the men could arrest Oikawa for something stupid like verbal assault.

Maybe he  _was_  looking for a fight, because Oikawa realized that the thought of spending a few nights in jail wasn’t that unwelcome. At least it was a chance to get away from all the shit happening around him.

But Oikawa wasn’t given the chance to make matters worse. The police officers looked at one another nervously, obviously trying to gauge the truth behind Iwaizumi's words. Deeming that they didn’t want to risk it, they moved aside, avoiding eye contact with Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and Kuroo.

It didn’t take Kuroo long to find Tsukishima once they were inside. Oikawa took a few moments to take in their surroundings. Some of the chairs had been thrown aside, a few glass bottles smashed on the ground, but apart from a little bit of damage, it didn’t look so bad. He may have assumed it was just another bar fight from the looks of it, if he didn’t know any better.

“Kuroo, what are you doing here?” Tsukishima asked, holding a pack of ice to his head.

He was sitting at one of the empty tables while the employees were being questioned.

“I heard what happened. Shit, are you okay?” Kuroo asked worriedly, taking the seat next to Tsukishima.

Tsukishima looked like he wanted to protest, but then he lifted the elbow he had been leaning his head against off the table and slid further into the booth, allowing Kuroo to take the seat next to him.

Oikawa hovered near enough to see and hear them but not close enough to be a part of the conversation. Tsukishima rolled his eyes and jerked his head to the seat across from him and Kuroo, which was all the invitation that Oikawa needed to join them.

“I see you brought your new friend,” Tsukishima said bluntly.

His eyes inadvertently found Iwaizumi's figure talking to one of the police officers. The man in uniform looked nervous and Oikawa didn’t blame him because Iwaizumi was an intimidating guy by nature. But Oikawa knew that his intimidation in this situation came from other reasons around here.

Oikawa couldn’t tell if Tsukishima was unamused or just apathetic at this point.

“Well, Oikawa was too drunk to drive,” Kuroo explained, shooting Oikawa a look that meant  _that_  conversation wasn’t even close to being forgotten.

“And you?” Tsukishima asked.

It should have been weird to see them so civil, especially after the emotional breakup they had, but Oikawa should have known that not seeing one another wasn’t what either of them wanted. Kuroo had made his case obvious; Tsukishima, not so much.

But now, he didn’t have to say anything for Oikawa to know he had missed Kuroo. And if Oikawa could tell that just from a look, he knew that the unspoken words were as obvious as the headlights of an oncoming car to Kuroo.

“You should know you mean too much for me to be able to think properly, let alone drive safely,” Kuroo said honestly.

It was a private conversation, and Oikawa would have left had it not been for the fact that Tsukishima had included him in it. He supposed he could excuse himself now, but Tsukishima locked his gaze on Oikawa as if to say he knew what Oikawa was thinking.

“Are you okay?” Oikawa asked, pointing to the bump on Tsukishima’s head.

“I’m fine. Just knocked my head on the counter when some of the guys started fighting. And before you ask,  _no_  I didn’t confront anyone physically  _or_  verbally,” he rolled his eyes as Kuroo clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Oikawa said sincerely.

“Thanks.” Tsukishima turned back to make sure that the cops were otherwise occupied. “I’m not stupid, I know what working here means but the guys who came in weren’t just regular thugs. Sakusa’s running with Hirata now. I didn’t see his face properly because he was wearing a mask but I  _know_  it was him. He looked at me like he knew me. The stare was the same as the one he used to give us all those months ago at your trials,” Tsukishima said quietly.

Kuroo's face hardened at the mention of Sakusa. “I don’t care if you don’t like it, but you’re not living alone anymore. Sakusa came after Semi first and now he targeted you. I’m not watching you put yourself in danger.”

He was angry yet his voice almost sounded pleading. Oikawa had never loved someone romantically, but he did know what love was so he could understand Kuroo's worry.

“I think it’s bigger than him coming after me to get to you,” Tsukishima smiled sadly.

“What are you talking about?” Oikawa frowned.

Tsukishima jerked his head to his left. “See that man over there?”

“The one talking to Iwaizumi?” Kuroo asked.

“Yeah. That’s Kawasaki- _dono_ ,” he rolled his eyes at the honorific. “Owns this bar and most of the establishments on this street.”

“Yakuza?” Oikawa narrowed his eyes, watching the familiarity with which Iwaizumi and Kawasaki were speaking to one another.

“Exactly,” Tsukishima confirmed. “There’s a gang war happening and Shinjuku just got pulled into the mix. As far as I know, Kawasaki is a nice enough guy for someone who heads an illegal syndicate. Maybe he didn’t want to join forces, or maybe he did something to piss off the other clans but this wasn’t about me. I just happened to be working here too, so I guess it was a hit two birds with one stone kind of deal,” he laughed hollowly.

Oikawa was silent; Kuroo was too, but for a different reason. The first time Oikawa had met Iwaizumi, he told him that he wasn’t yakuza but the way he was speaking to Kawasaki said anything  _but_. There was also the problem that Tsukishima had implied that the Adachi and Hirata clans were working together. 

That went against what they had been assuming all along. It made Oikawa wonder if he was being played by Iwaizumi but then again, what reason did Iwaizumi have for involving him if not for his help?

“I’m going to leave you two to talk,” Oikawa said suddenly, using his hands to push against the wooden table to stand up. “Just so you know, Tetsu's been miserable without you,” he smiled, dodging the kick Kuroo aimed at him under the table.

Dire circumstances usually brought people together and Oikawa hated that the cliché was going to give Kuroo and Tsukishima a second chance, but he much preferred his friends together than apart. Tsukishima was loyal, and that was the only kind of person Oikawa would accept. He knew Kuroo didn’t need his approval but it did mean a lot that Oikawa liked Tsukishima.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi called, interrupting his thoughts.

He had been planning on waiting outside, maybe get some fresh air while Kuroo and Tsukishima finished talking about what they were going to do. Being in yakuza territory made Oikawa nervous—even more so with Sakusa on the other side this time. His presence had ruined Oikawa's life once and it made him wary of everyone else in that business ever since.

Oikawa ignored Iwaizumi's voice, hoping that the man would get the hint if Oikawa didn’t respond. But Iwaizumi was either thick or incredibly stubborn—possibly a mix of both.

“Oikawa, stop,” Iwaizumi said loudly, taking the few steps down from the front door to the street.

He ignored the officers who were still stationed at the front.

“ _What_?” Oikawa bristled.

He knew he was being unfair but so was Iwaizumi. Whatever he wanted to say to Oikawa should have been in private and  _not_  when they were in the middle of a situation that Oikawa had no insight on. He wanted to go home, he wanted to chug a couple glasses of water and he wanted to go the fuck to sleep.

“You owe me an explanation,” Iwaizumi said stubbornly.

“ _Me_?” Oikawa challenged. He wasn’t going to rise to the bait but arguing with Iwaizumi was so  _easy_. And it was like he was asking for it by using such belligerent language. “I owe you an explanation?” he reiterated. “What about you, huh? You said you weren’t yakuza and I fucking believed you then what do you know? You’re throwing around names, talking to the boss himself and acting like you still run with that crew!”

Iwaizumi stalled, face adopting a stoic expression. He looked behind at the officers who were still within earshot then back at Oikawa who was nothing short of furious.

“We’re not talking about that here,” he said sternly.

“Then we’re not talking about it  _ever_ ,” Oikawa rebutted.

“Can you stop being stubborn for  _two_  fucking seconds? If you just walk down the street a bit I’ll tell you what happened back there,” he sighed, rubbing his jaw with his palm in frustration.

Oikawa rolled his eyes, tempted to argue back but he grumbled a bit and did what he was told if only because his curiosity had gotten the best of him. Iwaizumi didn’t seem like a liar and Oikawa liked to believe he was a good judge of character. And a part of him  _wanted_  to trust Iwaizumi as well, even though the miscommunication between them was never-ending.

Iwaizumi didn’t lead, which made Oikawa more irritable because Iwaizumi was trying to be thoughtful. It would have been easier on his muddled thoughts if Iwaizumi had just assumed Oikawa would do what he wanted. That way, Oikawa could be angry with him in peace.

It took them five minutes to find a less crowded alley between two clubs that were just starting to close for the night. The loud conversations between the night-goers was white noise; Oikawa registered it but it was numbing rather than a distraction. He hated how easy it was for Iwaizumi to capture his attention both willingly and unwillingly so.

He crossed his arms over his chest – a feeble attempt at protecting himself from his own feelings. Iwaizumi watched Oikawa's comportment, taking in the details as they basked in silence. Oikawa was surprised with himself for not having broken the eerie calm around them but it was sort of  _nice_  just being able to stare at Iwaizumi unabashedly.

As much as Oikawa didn’t like what Iwaizumi stood for and the people he knew, he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to Iwaizumi. There was no question that Iwaizumi was attractive, with his chiselled jaw, straight nose, large, muscled shoulders and equally muscled arms.

But it was more than his looks that drew Oikawa to him. He had all the qualities of a leader: firm, calm, respected. As much as they clashed because of their strong personalities, it was also what made Oikawa like Iwaizumi so much.

“Kawasaki’s not the same as everyone else,” Iwaizumi said, breaking the silence. Oikawa snorted in disbelief. “I’m serious. He may be yakuza but he comes from old money. He’s got a lot of respect because he runs his money off tariffs and not buying and selling illegal goods.”

“I could care less what he does,” Oikawa said honestly. “I just want to know how involved you are with him—with  _them_.”

“I’m not involved with any of the gangs,” he promised. “He invited me into his syndicate a long time ago. I declined and he offered me the chance to work freely for him. It was the only reason I didn’t get recruited by any of the other gangs, the  _reason_  why I was given a fucking choice. Yeah I did some stupid things back then but I was always allowed to exist as an individual. I’m not proud of my past but I  _do_ owe Kawasaki for the freedom I have right now.”

Oikawa pursed his lips. He let out sound somewhere between annoyance and acceptance. Iwaizumi seemed to understand because he dropped his shoulders slightly. Oikawa tried not to find joy in the fact that Iwaizumi was  _worried_  about Oikawa's opinion of him.

“Adachi and Hirata are getting antsy. Turns out, the war we thought was between them actually has nothing to do with  _them_  and everything to do with  _me_. They don’t like players they can’t control, which means they don’t like me,” Iwaizumi sighed. “All the other groups who worked alone got disbanded. Kyoutani, Bokuto, Daichi and I are the only ones left.”

“So what are you saying? You’ve got a target on your back?” Oikawa asked, worried despite himself.

“No,  _we’ve_  got a target on our backs and I’m really sorry I got you involved in this in the first place. I got played, and I fucked everything up for you too,” Iwaizumi apologized.

“ _I_  decided to help you,” Oikawa reminded. “I’m the one who came to you when Sakusa showed up again.” Iwaizumi's frown shifted slightly. “Besides, we both know that if Sakusa came to Semi before I even came to you, I was already in the picture even without us getting involved together,” he pointed out. “Looks like you had competition you didn’t even know about,” Oikawa smiled wryly.

Iwaizumi sighed, not having a rebuttal for Oikawa's logic. It was the only explanation that made sense. On their own, Iwaizumi and Oikawa may not have had much in common besides cars but they were still big enough threats for the yakuza to want to eliminate their influence individually.

“What do you want to do?” Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa shook his head, surprised that Iwaizumi was asking him his opinion. “What we were doing before, just faster. Are you working for Kawasaki now as a third party?”

“No,” Iwaizumi admitted. “He asked me if I would. I said I already had a plan but you know that Chuo and Taito are going to become Kawasaki’s territory if we go ahead with what we want to do, right? And you know that Kawasaki’s smart and he’s not going to let us fuck up his own plans so whether you like it or not, we’re unintentionally working for him.”

Oikawa nodded, having thought over that possibility even before Iwaizumi brought it up. “It’s not like we could take down two yakuza syndicates on our own anyway. If what you said about Kawasaki is true, I’ll turn a blind eye to his involvement and pretend like he isn’t supporting us from the shadows. Tokyo was always going to belong to the yakuza. I guess it’s better if it’s one of the comparatively nicer ones,” he sighed.

It was one of those things that had become a constant through the evolvement of time. Whether Oikawa liked it or not, he knew what living the way he liked to live meant. Somewhere, the yakuza were always going to have a hold on his interests. He wanted to be angry with Iwaizumi for how  _easily_  he was accepting the situation but Oikawa had always known that the yakuza influence ran deep in the street-racing scene as well.

“I’m not sure if  _nicer_  is the correct word to use here but I can assure you as long as he’s in charge we’ll have our freedom,” Iwaizumi promised.

“Same difference at this point though, isn’t it?” Oikawa sighed.

“You’re taking this better than I thought you would,” Iwaizumi frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not going to change your mind tomorrow when you’re less drunk and more sober are you?” Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa snorted in amusement. “No, I’m not that forgetful just because I’m drunk unlike—” he paused, eyes widening when he realized what he was about to say:  _you_.

Iwaizumi didn’t miss his slip up and a dark flush crossed his face. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants, demeanour changing from composed to awkward in a matter of seconds.

“Oikawa,” he said slowly, “what you said earlier… was it true?”

He didn’t sound doubtful, which was the only thing that kept Oikawa's anger from flaring again. This time, it was him who flushed. He shouldn’t have said anything; his feelings were fucked up enough over Iwaizumi but he couldn’t deny that it felt  _good_  to not have to carry that secret around every time they were together.

It made Oikawa feel like a cheat and he wasn’t even the one who had forgotten about that night.

“You didn’t know?”

“No,” Iwaizumi promised. “I would never act like I forgot. Not that I’d want to,” he added, avoiding Oikawa's gaze with the admission.

It wasn’t a secret that Iwaizumi thought Oikawa was attractive – he had made that known a long time ago. It was Oikawa who kept pushing Iwaizumi away and after what had happened earlier that night, Oikawa wasn’t sure he could tell Iwaizumi that he wasn’t interested without lying to his face anymore.

“What happened?” Iwaizumi prompted.

“I don’t know,” Oikawa laughed sadly, nose scrunching up in embarrassment. “It was last April. I saw you in Chuo but you didn’t have any of your friends with you. You raced, we talked, you invited me out for a drive and we ended up in your garage with too much alcohol.”

Iwaizumi rubbed at his face in embarrassment and annoyance at himself. “I am so fucking sorry, Oikawa,” he apologized. “I swear, I didn’t know it was you. That wasn’t a good night and I’m sorry I used you,” he swore guiltily under his breath.

“You didn’t  _use me_ ,” Oikawa glared. “Don’t say it like it was a mistake.”

Iwaizumi had kissed him earlier today – albeit after Oikawa had initiated it – so the fact that he sounded  _disappointed_  stung.

“It  _was_  a mistake,” Iwaizumi insisted. “And not because it happened but because that’s not  _how_  it should have happened.

Oikawa was taken by surprise at Iwaizumi's candour. It took ten seconds of staring at Iwaizumi's determined face and his unwavering sense of morality to step forward, take a hold of Iwaizumi's open jacket flaps between both hands and yank him forward in a deep kiss.

This one was far less hazy than the last and much more meaningful. Unlike that evening, Iwaizumi didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, breathing in deeply as he pushed Oikawa against the brick wall. He easily pried Oikawa's mouth open, swallowing the moan that came with the action, hand coming up to cup his jaw, angling it just right.

Oikawa slipped his hands under Iwaizumi's shirt, feeling up his abdomen until they laced around his back. He pressed down against the dimples there and Iwaizumi moved closer, grinding his hips against Oikawa's in an instant.

The alley was littered with garbage – smelled even worse – but Oikawa could only focus on Iwaizumi's lips against his and his hands touching his face, pulling his hair, slipping under his shirt.

Iwaizumi kissed like he drove: fluid movements that had Oikawa's mind reeling with surprise and awe at the efficiency, the determination, the  _ease_.

“Show me how it should have happened,” Oikawa shivered, moving away to catch his breath.

Kissing Iwaizumi was intoxicating, and Oikawa hadn’t realized how badly he needed air until he gasped as they broke apart. He threw his head back against the cold wall, eyes fluttering shut. He was practically melting beneath Iwaizumi's touch; his hands, his lips.

“What?” Iwaizumi asked absentmindedly, lips drawing a line of kisses from Oikawa’s jaw down to his collarbone.

He bit down and sucked a darkening mark right underneath the neckline of Oikawa’s sweater to match the ones blooming there from earlier. Oikawa sighed, momentarily losing focus of what he had just said. He ground up against Iwaizumi just as Iwaizumi moved his mouth to a different spot.

“You said—you said it was a mistake because that’s not how it should have happened,” Oikawa reminded, voice coming out higher when he felt Iwaizumi's hands move down to his ass and squeeze.

Oikawa wasn’t even ashamed to admit how much that turned him on.

Iwaizumi belatedly registered what Oikawa said, stepping back at the realization, retracting his hands to himself. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa laughed. Iwaizumi's confusion had eased up any doubts Oikawa had in his mind. “I thought I made it obvious earlier tonight that I like you,” he said, voicing what they both knew aloud. “You still got Tetsu’s car keys?”

Iwaizumi furrowed his brows together in confusion, fishing through his pockets till he found what Oikawa had asked for. “Yeah,” he confirmed.

“Good. I’m telling him not to come home. Semi too,” Oikawa added, remembering that he and Kuroo had left Semi back at Iwaizumi's place.

“You think it’s a good idea to leave Kuroo with his ex?” Iwaizumi asked honestly.

“Please,” Oikawa rolled his eyes stepping back into Iwaizumi's space. “They want to fuck almost as much as I know you want to fuck me,” he whispered quietly, sealing his lips against Iwaizumi's without giving him a chance to retort.

His hands trailed down to the front of Iwaizumi's jeans, which Oikawa was pleased to feel was tented. He pressed down with the heel of his hand, stepping away when Iwaizumi ground down into it. He looked unimpressed at Oikawa's teasing. Oikawa expected Iwaizumi to torment him back but Iwaizumi simply grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the alley and back towards where they had parked.

It was hard to hide the excitement—especially hard to keep his hands to himself. Oikawa hadn’t expected the conversation between him and Iwaizumi to go as well as it had but he supposed a lot of it had to do with how the night had played out. A lot also had to do with how  _last night_  had played out as well.

Oikawa hadn’t expected Iwaizumi to be so  _genuine_  and something had sparked in him when he noticed Iwaizumi's sincerity. It was easy to talk to him and even easier to get lost in him. Oikawa hated giving up control but with Iwaizumi he  _wanted to_. That thought should have scared him but it only spurred him on.

The ride back to Oikawa's apartment was both too long and too short at the same time. The air between them was electric and while Oikawa wanted nothing more than to feel Iwaizumi's skin with his bare hands, he also didn’t want to give up the anticipation of it. He barely managed to send a coherent text out to Kuroo and Semi, not bothering to reply after reading their consent.

And when Oikawa was fumbling for the keys to his apartment and Iwaizumi pressed his front to Oikawa's back, encircling his hips with his hands and nosed against the column of Oikawa's throat, Oikawa could barely register what he was trying to do.

It took far too long for them to make it to his bed, clothes falling to the floor, leaving a trail from the front door to his bedroom. But when Iwaizumi pushed him back and took Oikawa into his mouth, it didn’t matter anymore how long it had taken: just that they had gotten to this point.

“God, Iwa-chan, I want to fuck your mouth  _so bad_ ,” he groaned, fingers digging into Iwaizumi's scalp.

“Who’s stopping you?” Iwaizumi asked moving off Oikawa to look him in the eyes.

Oikawa couldn’t stop looking at his lips – red, covered in spit and Oikawa's cum. Iwaizumi had taken him into his mouth with such ease that Oikawa definitely wanted to know what it would feel like to have Iwaizumi swallow his entire cock, to feel it hit the back of Iwaizumi's throat or better yet, slide down it.

“Next time,” Oikawa said, words serious.

Iwaizumi grinned. Before Oikawa could tell him off for looking so smug, he moved his mouth to Oikawa's head, swirling his tongue over it before digging it into his slit. Oikawa pulled on Iwaizumi's hair hard enough to hurt, but the action only spurred Iwaizumi to take more of Oikawa into his mouth.

He glided his mouth across until the outline of Oikawa's cock was visible in his cheek, tongue working around the hard length.

Oikawa couldn’t deny that Iwaizumi blowing him was a fantasy he had had before but the dream was nothing compared to the feeling of Iwaizumi between his legs for real. It wasn’t just his mouth, but his hands on Oikawa's thighs, his eyes meeting Oikawa's gaze every time he took him deeper down his throat.

Eventually, he pulled off, just as Oikawa felt that familiar heat coil tightly in his stomach. He wasn’t given the chance to berate Iwaizumi for stopping his orgasm prematurely as the other man replaced his mouth with his hand. His tongue licked between Oikawa's balls as his hands gripped his length tight, jerking him off at a pace that had Oikawa spilling on himself with an embarrassing moan.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed, stomach tensing with his release. His muscles weren’t given the chance to relax when Oikawa felt Iwaizumi move his mouth to brush over the tip of his cock— _damn tease_. He continued to move his mouth forward until he pressed a kiss to Oikawa's abdomen, kissing a path up his body.

Oikawa closed his eyes, shivering every time he felt Iwaizumi's mouth breathe warm air over his skin until he felt a hardness pressing against his stomach. When Oikawa snapped his eyes open, he saw that Iwaizumi's gaze was level with his, body hovering over him, face dangerously close to his mouth.

The proximity shouldn’t have thrown him off considering what they had just been doing but Oikawa couldn’t help the heat that spread across his cheeks. He knew the flush was evident as Iwaizumi's face broke into a goofy smile. Iwaizumi bent down to kiss at the blooming warmth, but suddenly embarrassed by the intensity of Iwaizumi's gaze, Oikawa rolled out from under him.

“What are you doing?” Iwaizumi asked, lips pulled up in an amused smile.

Oikawa threw open the bedside table drawer, half lying off the bed as he searched through it. He knocked his elbow against the top when he felt Iwaizumi's fingertips start to trace a line down his spine.

“Ow— _shit_ ,” he cursed, which Iwaizumi met with a small chuckle.

If Oikawa wasn’t suddenly flustered, he would have found a retort to throw at Iwaizumi, but instead, all he managed to do was throw the bottle of lube he had been searching for in Iwaizumi's direction.

Iwaizumi didn’t react immediately, which made Oikawa's embarrassment grow. “What’s wrong?” he asked, when Iwaizumi only stared at the bottle in his hands. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to use it – Oikawa knew for a fact that he did – but there was hesitancy in his eyes.

“You sure?” he asked, looking up to meet Oikawa's gaze.

His concern was endearing, but Oikawa was far too aware of the fact that this was Iwaizumi Hajime to get past the embarrassment and acknowledge the endearing side. So, he took a deep breath and said, “You’ve got two choices. Either you jerk yourself off, or you can come inside me.”

He wasn’t given the chance to be mortified by his boldness. Iwaizumi bent down, took Oikawa’s face in both hands and pressed a deep kiss to his lips that knocked the breath out of Oikawa. It was nice to know that Iwaizumi’s reluctance was based on consent rather than repulsion, and now that he had Oikawa's approval, there wasn't much room for delay.

Oikawa complied when Iwaizumi nudged him to lie on his stomach, sticking his ass out to make it easier for Iwaizumi to stretch him out. The burn wasn’t unfamiliar but it had been a while since had had sex – with Iwaizumi no less – and it took a lot more time and lube than Oikawa would care to admit for the burning sensation to turn pleasant.

Iwaizumi, for his part, was gentle and patient. He ignored Oikawa's protests to just go faster in favour of taking his time, curling his fingers just right and slowly spreading out Oikawa's muscles until he was loose and pliant beneath him.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathed, when he hadn’t felt a touch of discomfort for the past five minutes. “Now you’re just— _fuck_  you’re teasing,” he groaned, just as Iwaizumi brushed his fingers against his prostate.

He had three fingers seated comfortably inside Oikawa: warm, wet and a lot larger than three of his own fingers. The last time, all Oikawa could remember was the effects of the morning after. It wasn’t that he had  _forgotten_  what it felt like to have sex with Iwaizumi, but he was so adamant on ignoring that unfortunate accident that he had pushed the sentiment aside so far until it  _was_  practically forgotten.

Now though, Oikawa couldn’t help but let those feelings come back. Still, this time was already proving to be better with the promise of Iwaizumi still being there in the morning when he woke up.

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi challenged. “What if I tell you I’m going to make you cum with just my fingers then fuck you while you’re still sensitive from your second orgasm,” he asked, curling his fingers once more.

Oikawa let out an embarrassing yelp. He turned his head to the side to glare at Iwaizumi but it was half-hearted. A part of him couldn’t deny the appeal in Iwaizumi's offer but he was tired and mentally exhausted from everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. So, instead of berating Iwaizumi he said, “Next time,” in such a serious tone that it took even Iwaizumi by surprise.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Iwaizumi cursed, pulling his fingers out. He wiped the excess lube off of them on a tissue Oikawa had lying on the bedside table. “You should  _not_  be allowed to say things like that,” he muttered, flipping Oikawa onto his back.

Iwaizumi’s idle grin slipped off his face, eyes turning dark in an instant. Oikawa followed the line of his jaw down his throat to his Adam’s apple as it bobbed noticeably with every breath. He reached out to thread his arms behind Iwaizumi's neck, pulling him down, closer.

“Why? Does it make you want me?” he said slowly, meeting Iwaizumi's gaze.

Iwaizumi huffed out a laugh. “What do you think?”

“Then fuck me. You wanted to show me how you wanted me, right?” Oikawa reminded.

Oikawa had started off so confident, but the longer he stared into Iwaizumi's eyes, the more muddled his mind became. There was a natural charm to Iwaizumi that the man himself didn’t even know he had. But Oikawa was starting to find out just how intoxicating it could be.

He barely registered Iwaizumi moving back so he could slide on a condom, slick himself up with lube and line his cock up with Oikawa's hole. It was only when he felt the swell of Iwaizumi's length inside him did his eyes snap back into focus.

“Goddammit, don’t stop,” Oikawa grit his teeth when he felt Iwaizumi pause after he had slid in halfway.

“I don’t want to—”

“If you say hurt me I’m going to kick you out,” he clucked his tongue in annoyance. “ _Fuck me_ ,” Oikawa reiterated.

It was the push Iwaizumi needed to drive his cock deep into Oikawa. This time, he didn’t pause with the slide. Instead, Iwaizumi pulled back so that only the head of his cock was seated in Oikawa, the muscles around his hole trying to suck Iwaizumi back in.

Iwaizumi gave Oikawa what he wanted; he fucked him without holding back and Oikawa's moans and little gasps every time Iwaizumi drove his cock into his prostate only spurred him on.

Oikawa wasn’t sure he even needed Iwaizumi's hand around him to get him off. He was doing just fine with the way Iwaizumi was fucking him deep. The crease in his brow, the darkness in his eyes and the pants he was letting out made Oikawa feel wanted and that turned him on, embarrassingly so.

“Iwa-chan,” he mumbled, face flushed.

Iwaizumi slowed his pace, dragging the thrusts out longer. Oikawa closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi's neck and used it as leverage to slide down further on Iwaizumi's cock.

“Don’t do that,” Iwaizumi grit out when Oikawa clenched his ass.

It only made Oikawa want do it again, and he did. Iwaizumi brought his hands down to Oikawa's hips, sliding them under his back and down to his ass. He squeezed his cheeks just as he thrust deep against Oikawa's prostate, making Oikawa arch up in pleasure. He kept the new angle, sliding forward to keep Oikawa from dropping back down.

“Fuck,” Oikawa cursed. “Right there, god,  _please_ , don’t stop!” he cried at the feeling of Iwaizumi hitting that bundle of nerves that shot pleasure up through his spine with every thrust. They got increasingly rougher, more punctuated and erratic, until Oikawa knew that Iwaizumi was close.

When Oikawa felt a warmth pool in his own stomach and Iwaizumi continued to fuck him through his release, the air was snatched right out of his lungs.

“You’re so  _so_  good, so fucking beautiful,” Iwaizumi whispered, slowing down a few moments later, having found his own release.

He brushed a hand over Oikawa's cheeks before sliding it back up to push the damp hair out of his face. If Oikawa wasn’t already flushed from the exertion, his face might have heated up from the gentleness in Iwaizumi's touch.

Iwaizumi slid back, giving Oikawa room to unhook his legs so Iwaizumi could pull out fully. He picked up a few tissues and placed them on the bed next to Oikawa before getting up to remove and tie up the condom he had been wearing. “Bathroom?”

“Farthest door on the left,” Oikawa sighed, jerking his head in the right direction.

His arms felt heavy and tired but in a good way. He smiled when Iwaizumi left the room, resisting the urge to curl up in a ball out of giddiness.

It was stupid that he was so happy about sex, but it wasn’t  _just sex_  that had him feeling ecstatic. Having told Iwaizumi the truth was liberating. His entire body and mind felt light. The fact that the outcome hadn’t even been close to as bad as Oikawa had assumed it would be had made the result that much more gratifying.

He tried to control the happiness on his face when Iwaizumi came back but he couldn’t tuck the smile away.

“What?” Iwaizumi asked.

When he noticed that Oikawa hadn’t cleaned himself off in the time that he was gone, he brought the wet cloth that he had come back from the bathroom with to Oikawa's stomach, wiping off the stickiness before bringing it down the sides of his cock to do the same. He clucked his tongue in annoyance but the flush spreading across his face gave away his real embarrassment.

“Nothing,” Oikawa said, trying to hide his face in his pillow.

“Seriously,  _what_?” Iwaizumi repeated, not unkindly.

“I’m just thinking about how much worse this could have gone,” he admitted once Iwaizumi was finished cleaning him off.

It was sweet and certainly not what Oikawa would have expected from the man. It made him realize just how little he knew about Iwaizumi and how wrong he had been about Iwaizumi's character.

Bad circumstances brought out the worst in people, but Oikawa was starting to learn that Iwaizumi was a good guy, regardless.

“You could have just said so if you weren’t enjoying yourself,” Iwaizumi scoffed quietly.

“Not the sex!” Oikawa laughed. He scooted over to the side, giving Iwaizumi a chance to get back in or leave. “I just meant, you know, you and me. After what happened in April. I didn’t think you’d believe me or apologize,” he sighed, losing some of his confidence when Iwaizumi didn’t take the offer to get in the bed with him.

Iwaizumi hummed to show he had heard what Oikawa said, which was the only confirmation Oikawa got until he sat down on the bed and said, “I like you.”

“What?”

“This whole time I thought you didn’t like me because of my past, so when I found out it was because I had fucked up and couldn’t even remember what I had done, I was relieved. I can’t change who I was in the past but I  _can_  make it up to you for forgetting when we first met,” he explained.

“I didn’t want to like you before,” Oikawa admitted, turning on his side to face Iwaizumi who had taken to lying on the bed as well.

“And now?” Iwaizumi prompted.

“Now…” Oikawa said, bringing a hand up to trace the black ink on Iwaizumi's shoulder and upper arm, “now, I don’t think I ever had a choice,” he confessed, tearing his eyes away from Iwaizumi's bicep to land on his face instead.

He was met by a small smile. It was encouraging and enough to convince Oikawa that if he fell asleep at that very moment, he’d wake up and find Iwaizumi was still there. This was the fourth time they would fall asleep together, the third time they found themselves in the same bed, but the first with their feelings on the same level.

“I like you too,” Oikawa confirmed, in case Iwaizumi had any doubts.

His words were met by Iwaizumi's hand reaching out to hold his tightly, fingers lacing through Oikawa's tightly. “Good, because I won’t let you take it back now,” he grinned, fighting Oikawa's protests of embarrassment with a kiss.

“Go to sleep,” Oikawa mumbled, pushing at Iwaizumi's chest lightly.

“Goodnight,” Iwaizumi laughed, closing his eyes as per Oikawa's request.

Things still didn’t look good for the group, but at least some things had been resolved between the two of them and that gave Oikawa hope for the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time:  
> \- Iwaizumi deals w/ a full house in the effects of the morning after  
> \- 2 vs. 2 race wars
> 
> thanks for reading! comments/kudos are much appreciated c: I know I have a few comments from the last chapter to reply to and I promise I will get to those! I don't leave any comment unanswered but all I ask for is a little bit of patience for when I have free time in my busy life ;__; I'm sorry if I've made you feel ignored!

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: [@oiivkawa](https://twitter.com/oiivkawa)  
> tumblr: [@oiivkawa](https://oiivkawa.tumblr.com)
> 
> [playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/user/malipo13/playlist/5gviker1O6uwqorOCChkTs) \- feel free to make suggestions ^^


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